Confectionary Secret
by Your Worshipfulness
Summary: This is a story about love and secrets, which do not necessarily go together with good results. For as everyone knows, the person who can keep a secret may be wise, but he is not half as wise as the person with no secrets to keep.
1. Chapter 1

**Confectionary Secret**

This is an attempt to write a Wonka fanfic in which he is romantically involved with an original character. It is designed to test my ability to write a woman that isn't a Mary Sue. You, the reader, may judge whether or not I have accomplished the goal. I own nothing and for the sake of the story, we're going to assume that everything invented in this fanfic is being invented for the first time, ok? Suspend your disbelief for me. This fic assumes that the Willy Wonka movie takes place around 1999 and I'm placing the Willy Wonka factory in Northern England.

**Chapter 1**

The long corridors of Derringer Incorporated were tastefully decorated in cheery colors. Potted flowering plants were placed under every window, large murals enlivened the more public areas, and each employee was encouraged to be creative with their workspace. No dress code was enforced and the break rooms were stocked with gourmet coffee as well as top of the line appliances. Everything was arranged for optimum comfort, it seemed; all but one room, at least.

Lauren Derringer specially designed the war room, as many of the workers referred to it, to make an impression. Just as she had made the rest of her company appear welcoming and pleasant, she devoted her skills to making the war room intimidating and cold. The walls were steel plated, the floor, black tile, and the long conference table was of dark-stained oak. Each black leather chair was identical to the rest, save for the chair at the head. Set noticeably higher than the others, it was the only chair that did not move in any way. This subtly suggested a feeling of permanency, while the other wheeled, swiveling chairs gave the impression of transience. Nothing in the room was colorful; chrome, black, and gray almost overwhelmed all who entered and the room was always set at a chilly sixty degrees. That was how Lauren preferred it.

"Ladies, gentlemen, if you'll have a seat we can get started," Lauren announced in the general direction of the chrome sideboard where suited employees were busily pouring coffee from metallic pots. She gave them five minutes maximum to doctor their coffee, another small inconvenience to distract and annoy the men and women before her. When they were all seated she gave an arctic smile and leaned back in the high-backed gray armchair. "Sales are down." There was a low murmur of worried denials which subsided at her sharp look. "There's no point in denying it. They have been down since the Wonka ticket fiasco and we need to bring them back up. Suggestions?"

"We could have a contest of our own," Horace Kellman suggested, not meeting her eyes.

"We have nothing to offer that the public wants enough to really improve sales," Lauren replied, having expected that option would be raised. "Even if we offered a substantial cash reward, which I'm not sure we could afford, it simply isn't exotic enough to inspire the true spike that we need."

"Perhaps we could invest in a new advertising campaign?" Joyce Hagger said, looking up from a folder.

Lauren shook her head. "With as much publicity as we are already getting, we couldn't be more visible."

"Actually, it was only our advertising campaign that kept our head above water during the Wonka Rush," Warren Burg added, sounding almost proud. As the public liaison, advertising fell under his purview.

The rather rotund Derrik Atherton took umbrage, as he usually did when anyone younger than thirty took credit for anything. "You're exaggerating," he sputtered, but he also studiously avoided the CEO's eyes.

"Sadly, he is not," Lauren interrupted, standing with a swiftness that was almost menacing. "During the month in which Wonka delivered his announcement sales dropped ninety percent. The next month we were asked not to deliver our next shipment because nothing but Wonka bars were selling. We have lost millions of dollars and it is only through our relentless commercials, billboards, and ads that we have managed to stay afloat. Two of Wonka's largest competitors, Eros and Fickleberry, have gone under because they were unprepared for the sudden slump and it is only through grace and my foresight that our cushion was available to keep this place running. Prodnose and Slugworth have had to merge in order to keep in the black." By the end of her little speech the chairmen were shifting uncomfortably, thinking they knew what was coming. Layoffs almost always proceeded rants like these; this would be no different.

"So, how many workers should we let go?" Pricilla Franklin asked, shuffling some papers that appeared to be an expense report. The emblem of Derringer's Chocolates emblazoned across the letterhead.

Lauren smirked and sat down, crossing her legs in an entirely satisfied way. "None." She let this sink into the heads of her board, watching confusion settle in. "We shall take a page out of Mr. Wonka's book. We must do something unexpected, take a chance. We need to come up with new candy. It must be delicious and completely different from anything we've ever had before. Unfortunately, to make this candy we're going to need something that has been sadly lacking in this company so far, inspiration."

"Which department will this fall under, Miss Derringer?" Joyce queried.

"None of you shall have to worry about it. I'm overseeing this personally." A shark-like smile spread across her face, an expression that would have worried even old President Derringer himself, had he been alive to see it. It spoke of bad things to come for the competition and at the same time, of bonuses for Christmas if all went well. Needless to say, it made the chairmen uneasy. They listened in tense silence as she outlined her plan in cold, logical steps. She invited them to comment, they politely declined, and filed out. Unbeknownst to the others, all were secretly wondering just how ironclad their confidentiality agreement really was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

At home that evening before 8:00 for the first time in years, Lauren found herself momentarily at a loss. What she was about to do was not only unscrupulous, ruthless, and dangerous, it was downright illegal. This would involve forging documents, fraud, and industrial espionage, all crimes that had jail time attached. She pushed the thoughts from her mind, determined not to think about consequences. They would only distract her from the real issue anyway. If she did not do something to bring sales back up, she stood to lose the company that her father and grandfather had built. She was finally in the position she had worked for her whole life, running an entire corporation on her own. When her father had passed away she had led the modernization of their factories, overseeing the building of their new factories overseas, and eventually guiding the once small business into an international chocolate corporation. She loved the high-stakes world, and the lifestyle that went with it. She reveled in the power and the wealth, knowing she could do anything she wanted at any time, bar nothing. What she was buying, selling, or shipping didn't matter so much as the game and the heady feeling of supremacy it gave her. She would not lose it; anything would be preferable to that.

Mind made up, she pushed doubts out of her head. There was room now only for decisions and positive thoughts. If she could take over her father's business at the age of 23 then she could certainly manage a bit of acting. "You can do this," she breathed, straightening her shoulders. Fortified, she headed out to the garage and began rummaging.

As a child she had not lived rich, though their bank account was the envy of all her friends. Her mother had always been perfectly happy in their small home and had felt no need for a mansion when it was just the three of them. They did own two cars, despite the fact that Vivian Derringer rarely drove, and Lauren had kept her mother's old blue Cadillac when she passed. Lauren had always found it hard to throw away anything that could later be useful and her packrat tendencies were finally coming in handy. If her parents had still been alive she would have indulged in a heartfelt I-told-you-so. As it was, she merely aimed a wry look at the ceiling and grabbed two beat-up cardboard boxes to haul inside.

Her old high school clothes barely fit and she was forced to lie down on the bed to zip and button most of the jeans. "Best personal trainer in Sweden, my foot," she thought grimly, glancing at her waistline in the mirror. He was definitely fired. Glancing worriedly at her stomach she resolved to lose at least five pounds before she left, preferably ten. Thankfully the shirts still fit and most of them weren't too out of date. Bell-bottoms had come back in, much to her relief, she looked dreadful in boot-cut pants. She stuffed the best fits and the most modern-looking clothes in a beat-up leather suitcase and tossed the rest back in the garage. She resolved to go to a trendy little teen boutique soon and pick up some suitable jewelry, a lot of stuff with feathers and colors and such. Details were important.

Wardrobe settled she moved to the bathroom, glancing in the mirror. A grown woman of 27 and a half stared back at her. "This will never do," she muttered. Her long blonde hair, coifed in a complex style atop her head, would be the first to go. She released the pins and pulled the clips out of her hair until it fell to the middle of her back. A quick washing freed it of hair spray and she removed a bottle of hair dye from the cupboard. An hour later her hair was an uninspiring brown and she frowned. Perhaps some oddly-colored streaks would help make her look like more of a modern teen? She shook her head, knowing she had to draw the line somewhere.

When her hair was dry she pulled it into a pony tail and removed the rest of her makeup. She looked younger, but not quite young enough. She needed to look 18, but she was more like 24. Applying bubble-gum colored lipstick and covering up some embarrassing blotches helped some, but it just wasn't good enough. She looked around, searching for inspiration when her eyes fell on the novel she had recently started. With a grin, she reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out her reading glasses. Slipping them on she smiled widely at her reflection. Perfection.

Pleased with her preparations she placed her glasses in their case and slipped them into the suitcase as well. The rest of the evening was spent finding pictures of her and her father where they didn't look too well off and her hair didn't look too blonde. She also took a recent picture of herself with her mother's car, moving it out to the driveway to capture the natural light. She ate dinner, a lean-cuisine meal instead of the calorie-rich frozen pizza she wanted, and went to bed. She drifted off in the middle of making complex lists of the things she would need to do the next day.

* * *

Lauren awoke with a headache and vague dreams of becoming a spy who fought off ninjas with a giant lollipop. She startled herself badly when she glanced in the mirror before she was fully awake and didn't recognize herself. Feeling more than slightly foolish she showered and changed clothes, leaving her hair down to dry naturally. Someone had once told her it was healthier that way and it had stuck with her all these years. While she ate breakfast, again disdaining the pop tart she longed for in favor of some sort of whole grain cereal, she made a list of everything that needed to be completed today. When she was done she left her bowl where it sat, knowing the maid would be in today anyway. Purse in hand and hair tossed back in a long tail, she headed for the salon.

The door chimed as she entered and the salon owner, Mrs. Wallace, looked up with a smile. "Good morning. Do you have an appointment?"

With a ghost of a smile, Lauren removed her sunglasses. "As it happens, I don't," she replied. "Can you fit me in?"

"Miss Derringer!" Mrs. Wallace said, looking slightly horrified. "Oh, you should have let us do this for you, the dying. Our products last so much longer."

"This was just a test to see if I liked the color. Can you give me a slightly lighter color with some blonde highlights? I don't want the roots to be immediately visible when it starts growing out.?"

"Certainly, Miss Derringer," the older woman said, looking relieved.

"And I'd like it cut to slightly longer than shoulder length, so I can still put it in a ponytail," she added.

Mrs. Wallace nodded, showing her back to a semi-private booth. "Will you be wanting a manicure as well?"

Studying her nails, which she had not thought of previously, she nodded. "Yes. Tell the manicurist I want the tips off and I want the nails painted the brightest blue she has."

Two hours later, Lauren emerged from the salon a bit heady from all the fumes. She proceeded to the mall, purchasing a variety of hygiene products that the saleswoman assured her were 'all the rage' with teenagers. Choosing a citrus scented shampoo at random, she matched the scent with the other products and was soon on her way. She found various chunky bracelets, strangely shaped rings, a horde of unusual earrings, and a watch that changed color according to her mood and bought them all. She also purchased a blue leopard print wallet and a key chain with the words 'Fight Crime- Shoot Back.' Knowing she had nothing but designer shoes at home, Lauren stopped at Payless for a pair of high-heeled boots, sneakers, and a pair of bright purple sandals that screamed at her whimsical side.

By 3:00 she was tired and hungry; she returned home, picked up her mail, and ate either a very late lunch or a very early dinner. The mail got more attention than her fat-free chicken meal, as it contained a plane ticket to England, information she might be expected to know in order to play her role, and the assurances that her orders had been followed to the letter. She added it to a the passport, driving license, and other information she had gathered under the name Lauren Zeigler. In two days she would be in England, hopefully with more access to the Wonka factory than any person had had in decades, sans the contest winners and Wonka himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The plane ride was uncomfortable and unnecessarily loud. She flew coach for the transatlantic flight and the crying babies, impatient children, and restless adults crammed together into such a small space almost made her claustrophobic. Never had she flown less than first class, though she recognized this part of her cover was unfortunately unavoidable. In a way it was another reminder, in case she had any doubts, of how enchanted she had become with her current lifestyle and how uncomfortable it would be to give it up.

In an effort to distract herself from leering, bearded German on her right and sticky seven-year old on her left, Lauren pulled the letter she had received from one Mrs. Bucket, addressed to one Lauren Zeigler, and read it for the forty-third time.

Dear Lauren,

We were so sorry to hear about your dear mother passing so suddenly and I offer you the condolences of the whole family. Though I did not know you and your mother well at all, I understand how important family is. It is perfectly natural that you should want to get to know us; we are the last of your extended family left, after all. I know you said you should be quite happy in a hotel, but we must insist that you not waste your money on such things. You'll be starting college soon and shall need every bit. You may stay with us, of course; we have a great deal of room and though the arrangements are a bit unusual I have secured consent from all involved. _-Here Lauren smirked, for that must refer to Mr. Wonka-_ Charlie is so looking forward to meeting his cousin and your uncle and I will be there to meet your train when it pulls in.

With great affection,  
Aunt Emma

The letter was very sincere and caused a peculiar guilty pang every time Lauren read it over. Each time she felt it, it was carefully stifled. Lauren had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this opportunity to examine Wonka's factory, and she wasn't about to lose it because of some vague nervous feelings. On the train ride she had reviewed her cover again, this time by memory. As she felt the details sinking into her she slipped into the mindset of Lauren Zeigler, the kind, interesting, and appealing orphan. She knew better than to keep such incriminating documents on her person; she had watched enough sitcoms, after all.

Thoughts of her back story inevitably led to thoughts of the lengths she had gone to ensure it was air-tight. The Buckets, or at least Wonka, had done the sensible thing and hired an investigator to make sure her story was true. She had had to find him, buy him off, and supply manufactured proof as to her new identity. She had tracked down Mr. Bucket's sister, Irene, now 57 and hopelessly addicted to heroin. She plied her for information on Bucket's childhood and took several old pictures of Irene, some with her brother in them as well, as additional proof. These went into her wallet for authenticity. Lauren had even taken a recent picture of Irene, now worn down by drugs and poverty, as evidence of her 'mother's' last illness. Everything was in order, down to her falsified birth certificate citing that she was nearly nineteen. Hopefully any aging she hadn't been able to hide could be explained away by grief.

With that rather hopeful thought the train began it's slow stop into the station and Lauren gathered her things. Yanking her small suitcase along with her equally small carry-on, Lauren stumbled off the train with a charming adolescent awkwardness. She glanced around uncertainly, slipping completely into the persona of the grieving, uninhibited American cousin. She was approached almost immediately by a tall, friendly-looking man and his wife.

"Lauren?" the woman asked hopefully.

Nodding with just the right amount of shyness, Lauren smiled and noticed for the first time a small boy peeking out from behind the two. "Yes, and you're James and Emma Bucket, so this must be Charlie. It's so nice to meet you."

The two adults, who were obviously married and just as obviously in love, smiled back. Their moves were in tandem, so well practiced were they together. Aunt Emma, as she was assured she must call her, took her arm, Uncle James took her luggage, and Charlie flitted on the edge, as though unsure what to do with himself. Lauren, who had always had a bit of a soft spot for underdogs, liked him at once.

"Did you have a nice trip? I've never traveled, but I hear it's exhausting," Aunt Emma said politely.

"No, the trip was lovely. The countryside was very beautiful and I don't feel tired at all," Lauren replied, being equally polite.

"Well, um… we don't have a car, never really needed one," Uncle James began, looking slightly uncomfortable. She saw him glance at his wife and she immediately took over.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you dear?" she asked.

"Um, no. Not that I'm aware of," Lauren said, slightly puzzled at their attitude. Were they to be taking a helicopter to the Wonka factory? Mentally she reminded herself that she wasn't supposed to know that they lived in the factory and asked the obvious question. "Why?"

Uncle James replied, "Well, it's just that, Mr. Wonka let us borrow his, um… vehicle, and it takes a bit of getting used to." They stopped suddenly and Lauren squinted at the glass box that was before them.

"This is it?" she asked nervously, more for something to say than out of confusion. No wonder they were a little worried. The thing looked like it would break if you breathed on it too hard. Charlie was the only one who appeared completely confident, not that that was entirely reassuring in and of itself. He walked forward and pressed a button on the glass. The nearly invisible doors slid open and everyone entered with varying degrees of reluctance. When the doors had closed behind them, Charlie pressed another of the many buttons and the purpose of the metal contraption atop the elevator suddenly became clear. Thrusters fired and the vehicle took off into the air at alarming speeds. Lauren concentrated on keeping her eyes closed and her stomach under control, thanking God that they weren't doing barrel rolls.

"Don't look down," Uncle James cautioned, patting her arm with slightly more force than was necessary. His face was horribly pale and getting greener by the second.

"I'm not looking at all," Lauren replied shakily. The ride seemed to take forever, though it was really a matter of minutes before the glass elevator slowed and landed with a jarring thump outside of the factory. Taking a very deep breath, Lauren slowly opened her eyes and helped her Uncle and Aunt off the floor. She then allowed herself to lean against the far wall as she attempted to cease shaking.

Charlie's cry of "Mr. Wonka!" interrupted the Bucket's questions of whether or not she was all right. The family filed out, Lauren last of all, blocking her view of the man temporarily. When they moved she stopped just as she was about to exit and stared for a long moment. He was dressed in a red velvet coat, complete with top hat, purple gloves, and a rather eccentric cane. Double-u's were worn at strategic places all over his outfit, giving one the impression that the wearer was an out-of-date nymphomaniac, and possibly color-blind. Words popped into her head and slithered out of her mouth before she could stop them. "How very odd."

Wonka looked slightly affronted, drawing himself up imperiously. "You know, people in glass elevators shouldn't throw stones," he said, smiling as though he'd won a point.

"I'm sure I'd be more polite if a hundred or so people hadn't just seen up my skirt," Lauren replied, a bit peevishly. She had dressed to impress, plaid skirt, black shirt, and a little green jacket that all came together to make a stylish yet demure statement. All thoughts of making a statement were long gone now, and she was simply thankful that she hadn't worn a thong.

"Mr. Wonka, this is my cousin Lauren Ziegler," Charlie said proudly, as if he had been the genius behind her creation.

Lauren was about to hold out her hand, when the rather eclectic Wonka abruptly spoke, "Yes, charmed," he tossed off, his high, feminine sounding anything but. He wasn't even bothering to hide being totally disinterested. "I really must be off, there's chocolate to stir and style, you know." With that he dodged Lauren as though she had the plague, not getting within a foot of her, and entered the elevator. With a precise press of a button, he was in the air and disappearing into the factory.

* * *

**Response to Reviewers:**

R. Joy Helvie - I'm glad you like Lauren. I worked very hard on deciding certain things about her personality and the personality she would assume in order to get into the Wonka factory. It's nice to find someone who appreciates the effort. Actually the names of the board members were inspired by my Algbra and calculus teachers over the years, but it is an odd coincidence that they are all places in Missouri.

Willy Wonka Obsession: Thank you for both of your very kind and very detailed reviews. Your compliments are very much appreciated. I love to get critiques where the authors mention specifics so I can see what I need to work on and where I am succeeding. In fact, it was your reviews that inspired me to write this next chapter and get it up so soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Short, but hopefully sweet.

There was a kind of embarrassed silence for a few moments before Aunt Emma stepped up. "I'm sorry, Lauren, he's a little shy around new people. I'm sure he'll warm up to you soon."

"That's all right, Aunt Emma. I'm much more interested in getting to know you guys than Mr. Wonka," she half-lied. It was true that she didn't want to get to know Wonka, but in actuality she was busily thinking of the best way to reach Wonka's recipe box.

"I want you to think of dear Willy as part of the family though; he's practically like a second son to me," Aunt Emma insisted.

To please her Lauren smiled and nodded noncommittally. The eccentric chocolatier had done nothing so far to impress her and she very much doubted she would want much to do with him anyway. The more personal she became with Wonka the more chance there would be that he would discover she knew more about the industry than she was supposed to. "So, where do you guys hang your hats?" she asked, purposely facing towards the gate. It would be the normal thing to assume, after all.

"Actually, we live inside the factory. It makes it a lot easier for Charlie to get to work every day," Uncle James explained, leading the way inside still clutching her suitcase. "We'd better hurry. I'm sure Mum will be wanting to see you as soon as possible."

Lauren expected this and dutifully followed her alleged Aunt and Uncle towards the large doors at the top of the factory. Charlie hung back, giving her a smile as he fell into step with her. Grinning back conspiratorially, she held out a hand. Charlie took it, wrapping his fingers around her palm, almost skipping up the stairs. Lauren suppressed a smirk, bond established.

She had heard that the Wonka factory was unlike a normal factory in every respect, so she was somewhat prepared for the fun-house like effect of the shrinking corridor. When the entire wall of the little place opened, she was not expecting how beautiful it would be. All the bright colors and clearly fanciful plants made her feel like Dorothy, awakening in Munchkin land. She gasped appreciatively, watching the smiles appear on her new family's faces. They must have been looking forward to this moment, one of the few times they had been allowed to show off their new home.

"It's gorgeous," she said honestly.

"And everything is eatable," Charlie exclaimed.

"You mean edible?" Lauren couldn't help asking.

"No, no, eatable!"

Lauren Derringer hated mispronunciations; it was a pet peeve she was very at home with. Lauren Zeigler, however, was more relaxed and easygoing. She decided to let this one go. "Ah, my mistake."

"Come on, let me show you the house," Charlie exclaimed, running towards the little leaning hut in the middle of the chocolate room. The house looked very out of place, standing in all its Pisa-like glory in the center of the large confectionary room. Charlie seemed to think it was perfectly normal though, so Lauren politely ignored the incongruity. Hoping it wouldn't collapse as she entered, she followed Charlie in as his parents made up the rear.

"Is that her? Lauren, darling, come here!" a tiny, wrinkled old lady demanded gregariously. She looked entirely cheerful where she was sitting in a large bed near the fireplace. Lauren approached slowly, hoping it looked like she was merely shy, as she struggled to remember everything Irene had told her. "Come, come, I don't bite."

"Grandma Georgina?" she asked in a timid tone that was not all false.

"Yes, and this is your Grandpa George," she said, smiling hugely. Wrinkles intersected wrinkles and Lauren smiled back.

She looked over at her thus far silent Grandpa George and felt an instant connection. This was the kind of man she had always hoped for in a grandfather. He looked tough, quarrelsome, and thoroughly unpleasant. He also had a shrewd yet honest glint in his eye that said more about his character than anything else. He reminded her of herself, the real Lauren, not the little girl she was pretending to be. For a moment she forgot about the image and stood straight, chin up, and an expression of mature understanding on her face. She saw a brief flicker of approval in this man, George Bucket, and then allowed herself to fade back into the young orphan that she was supposed to be. "Hello, Grandpa George."

"So, you're Irene's whelp," he said without preamble. "You don't look a thing like her."

"No sir, I'm more like my father," she replied easily.

"Hmmm, what did your father do for a living?" he asked intrusively.

"He sold cars," she answered, it also being a question she was prepared for. "I brought some pictures of everyone, if you'd like to see?" The hint of shy inquiry was not overdone, for Lauren was not able to pull of a truly shy girl believably, but it was perfect for a young woman just meeting her grandparents for the first time.

Grandma Georgina sat forward eagerly and motioned for the others to crowd around. She scooted over closer to her husband in the large bed and patted the space beside her. "Come, have a seat dear and show us the pictures of my little girl."

Lauren couldn't help liking the old woman, even if she was just the slightest bit dotty, and she quickly retrieved the pictures from her bag. The first ones she unleashed were the picture of Irene and James, standing next to an antique rocking horse. It was passed to Grandma Georgina, then Grandpa George, then to Uncle James, and Aunt Emma before reaching Charlie. Each exclaimed over something they found interesting about the old photo and the familiar feeling of guilt surfaced in Lauren as she noticed the tears running down Grandma Georgina's face. Grandpa George, much too stern to cry, was rubbing at one eye and muttering something about an eyelash.

Each picture she pulled forth brought a fresh wave of comments and tears. She brought out pictures of Grandpa George and his family standing in front of a little ramshackle cottage, James couldn't have been more than five and Irene 12. There was one of Irene just arriving in America, dressed as a waitress. One she had gotten from Irene just after she had given birth, though the heroin-addict had explained that the child had been given up for adoption. It showed a tired-looking woman with a dark-haired baby. Smiles showed that the Buckets were assuming, as they were supposed to, that the baby was Lauren. Next came the carefully doctored photos of Irene and Lauren's father, then Lauren and her father alone, and Lauren and Irene together. Finally there was one of Lauren standing near her real mother's car looking as she did today.

When each photograph had traveled down the line and been commented on, Lauren put them all back inside the small album. The experience had been surprisingly emotional, and though the Buckets had suffered the brunt of it, Lauren had still been caught up in their catharsis. She found herself feeling a lot closer to these people who weren't really her relatives at all and she sternly instructed her emotions to shut up and not get too attached. After all, she wouldn't be staying longer than a month and it was never a good idea to get caught up in the lie.

* * *

Another huge round of thanks to my reviwers. You are my inspiration, please don't stop. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

More Wonka and more substance, for your viewing pleasure.

The first three days were all about settling in. Lauren had given herself plenty of time for that, mentally scheduling the entire week as the getting-to-know-the-family period. She would be attentive, eager, helpful, and entirely uninterested in the factory at all beyond the chocolate room. She would let them come to her, feeling sure that their almost effervescent kindness would eventually compel them to convince her to tour the factory. She would, of course, concede, providing Charlie gave the tour. A child would be less suspicious of her and she suspected he knew the place like the back of his hand by now.

In those first days she learned many things. How to cook black pudding, how to knit a tasseled scarf, and how to correctly subdue a rampaging vermicious knid were among the lessons taught to her by the Bucket family. Even Grandpa George contributed, schooling her in the finer arts of German profanity. Overall, she felt her time was well spent. In return for their kindness, she answered their endless questions and entertained them all with anecdotes from her childhood. They seemingly couldn't get enough of her 'Americanisms,' as they called them.

Truthfully, she didn't mind. It was peaceful, sprawling across the giant comfortable bed as she knitted a thick purple scarf and gossiped about high school drama with Grandma Georgina, Grandma Josephine, as she had been assured she could call her, and Aunt Emma. A few weeks before she arrived in England, she was sure she remembered little of those long distant days of institutionalized learning. Now she found herself regurgitating who was dating which football player like she had some kind of photographic memory.

As the sun set, portrayed by a truly impressive lighting system that Wonka had designed, Lauren climbed to the top of the little leaning house with surprising ease, all things considered. She was sharing a room with Charlie, inconvenient but hardly unbearable, and dug her suitcase out from underneath the bed. She pulled out her journal and portable CD player before voices distracted her from her search for her headphones. Her ears pricked up as the conversation became clearer.

"-don't know why you boys are so late. James has been home for an hour and he commutes," Aunt Emma was saying.

"We were starting a new batch of fudge, double triple chocolate peanut butter ripple," Charlie said, obviously very excited.

Wonka piped in, sounding eleven years old if he was a day. "It'll be my best batch ever!" He seemed to think over the statement, then added in appeasement. "Charlie is a big help."

"I'm glad he's helping you, Willy, but I am a little disappointed that he hasn't spent any time with Lauren." She shifted her attention to her son. "You're not making her feel very welcome."

Peering down through the cracks in the floor, Lauren could just make out Charlie's abashed expression. She began climbing down, hoping to avert the gentle guilt trip Charlie was receiving on her account. Meanwhile Wonka was replying. "But the fudge will be here forever, his cou…" he paused, stuttering over the word. "His cous…" Again he choked. "His c-"

"Cousin?" Charlie asked helpfully.

"Yeah," Willy said, flinching a little. "Her." He pulled himself together. "She'll be around only a little while. So the bigger return on the investment is in the fudge."

As they all pondered Wonka's bizarre logic, Lauren stepped very deliberately on the creaky rung of the ladder. At the sound they all must have glanced up, because their gazes were fixed on her when she descended a moment later, headphones already on her ears. "Hi Aunt Emma. Hi Charlie!" she said cheerfully, as though she hadn't heard a word of the conversation. She turned to Wonka, who was busily not looking at her. "Good evening, Mr. Wonka."

His eyes flicked towards her, then back to Aunt Emma. He gave a stiff nod, overlong hair falling forward, and then stood up as still as a statue. "Are you staying for dinner, Willy?" Aunt Emma asked, noticing the hostility in the air.

Wonka looked tempted, shifting from foot to foot. He glanced at the table, opened his mouth, paused, then shook his head. "No, no, much too much to do at the factory. Auf wiedersehen," he called, already backing out of the door awkwardly and keeping his eyes focused somewhere over Lauren's shoulder.

"Bye, Mr. Wonka," Charlie replied, waving brightly. Wonka gave him a true smile, complete with teeth that practically shone, and waved back before closing the door and disappearing from sight. Charlie turned back then, beaming in adorable happiness at his cousin. Lauren responded despite herself, constantly surprised at how contagious Charlie's attitude was. From what she'd learned of the Bucket family's past, she had wondered, only to herself of course, how they had maintained their optimism in the face of such extreme misfortunes. Understanding struck her as she looked at the bright eyes of her young 'cousin.'

Charlie was truly a remarkable boy, mostly because of his amazing ability to inspire other people. One glance into that cherubic face leant new strength to the most beaten man, for who could falter before such infinite, childish confidence? Lauren was resisting his spell, though it was a struggle. The need to keep herself from being enchanted by this small, magical family warred with the sheer charisma that Charlie exuded quite by accident.

"Lauren, I was going to take a day off tomorrow," Charlie said, helping to set the table at the prompting of his mother. "Do you want to come with me?"

Setting the cutlery out, Lauren glanced across the place settings at him. "And where shall we go?"

"Anywhere you want," Charlie said willingly.

That was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up, which is why Lauren let it go. It was never good to appear too eager, less someone suspect. "Very well, then we will 'hang out' together tomorrow," she made air quotations, underscoring another Americanism, "but I get to pick what we do."

"But you don't know your way around," her cousin replied, confused but not argumentative.

"That will be part of the fun," she assured him. "Besides, we won't go far. Certainly I would not like to get on the wrong side of Mr. Wonka. He doesn't like me." She adjusted her completely unnecessary glasses as though uncomfortable with the subject. She imagined a normal young girl would be upset that someone didn't like her and acted accordingly..

Aunt Emma looked up at this, a slightly worried expression on her face for the feelings of those concerned. "Oh, it's not that dear," she began.

Lauren shot her a disbelieving look. "Aunt Emma, you're very sweet, but I am an American. We invented unfriendliness. Besides, it doesn't bother me. You can't like everyone, and I'm not exactly overly fond of him myself." She put on an unconcerned face, trusting they would take it as a brave front.

"You really think Mr. Wonka doesn't like you?" Charlie asked, curious and with the same worried expression his mother wore.

Almost without realizing it, Lauren set about putting his fears to rest. "Not to worry, Charlie. Perhaps he's just allergic to me and too polite to say so."

Charlie looked suspicious, but did not argue further. Instead he obediently went out to fetch his grandparents, who were happily 'sunning' themselves in the heated lighting on the back porch. Lauren took special care to smile at each of her newly acquired grandparents. They were growing on her, each with their own attributes that made them wise and valuable: Grandma Georgina, kind and accepting no matter what, Grandpa George, cunning and worldly beyond the norm, Grandma Josephine, wise and knowledgeable about everything under the sun, and Grandpa Joe, sweet and with such childlike wonder at the small miracles in life. For all her desire not to let herself be entwined in this family, she knew she was fighting a losing battle every step of the way.

* * *

**To my reviwers, thank you. You're an author's truest friends.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Lauren?" a small, soft whisper in her ear disturbed her at an ungodly hour of the morning. She opened one eye, saw only blackness, and closed it again. "Lauren?" the whisper came again. The bed was soft and comfortable beneath her. With an annoyed swat in the direction of the voice, she sank back towards sleep. "Lauren!" the voice was definitely getting insistent now, the change in tone was proceeded by a soft thump against her head. Lauren sat up, glaring at the little boy she could barely make out on the corner of the bed.

"Charlie, Wonka hasn't even turned the lights on yet. There shall be no fun until I can see to climb down the ladder without breaking my neck." With that she grabbed her pillow and aimed it at the giggling sound coming from the boy-shaped shadow on her bed.

"But I can't sleep," he said, sounding slightly muffled. The pillow was removed, allowing him to speak properly. "I'm too excited."

"Come here," she said, waiting until he had complied. "You can't sleep because it is forty degrees in here. Wonka has turned the air conditioner set much too low for my comfort." She tucked him in next to her, pulling the blanket up to both of their chins. "Now, we shall be warm and we shall sleep until the faux-sun wakes us up."

"He does it because of the chocolate," Charlie said, his voice already sounding tired.

"Does what?" Lauren asked, curious.

"Keeps it cold at night, so it won't melt."

Lauren smiled slightly in the darkness. It was on the tip of her tongue to question why the rest of the factory was so warm then, but then she remembered something about the Oompa Loompas being from a tropical climate. She merely replied softly, "I suppose there had to be a reason." She got no response, as Charlie had quietly drifted off. Lauren scooted back down into the warm cocoon she had made and followed his excellent example.

When she woke again, the sun was shining in her eyes and the smell of bacon was in the air. She squinted at Charlie, who had slept like the dead, then stretched hugely. She was very much tempted to stay abed, but was prevented by her prickling conscience reminding her of the promise to her cousin. She got up, running one hand over her face. Something felt off. She snapped her fingers and groped under the bed for her glasses. It wouldn't do to forget them. With the intention of having a shower before getting the day started, Lauren grabbed a change of clothes, her bag of toiletries, and her shoes before heading down the ladder.

"Good morning, Aunt Emma," Lauren called, heading out the door and around the back. A modern bathroom had been installed by Mr. Wonka, mostly for practical reasons as an outhouse was impossible in the chocolate room. Lauren was thankful for small favors, because she never could have bathed in a tub in the kitchen, no matter what was at stake for Derringer Chocolates. She passed her uncle on the way back from his shower and was pleased with her timing.

She stepped into the small tiled room and stripped down, making sure the door was locked. Lauren had always been paranoid about someone walking in on her, though she didn't know exactly why. It was only after she had showered, conditioned her hair, and shaved her legs that she realized her body lotion was mission. She distinctly remembered placing it in her bath bag only that morning, so it had to have fallen out on her way to the bathroom. Taking into account that no one but Mr. Bucket and herself took morning showers, and that the majority of the family wasn't awake yet, Lauren felt relatively secure in the slightly rash action she was about to take.

Pulling on her underwear, for there was no point in asking for trouble, and tying the towel securely around her, she walked out. She spotted the bottle immediately, it's pinkish color standing out amongst the green of the fake grass. She bent down to pick it up and was for a moment absolutely certain that she felt eyes upon her. When she spun around and saw nothing that caught her eye she mentally shrugged. It didn't truly matter anyway if some stray Oompa Loompa had glimpsed her in a towel, after all. She was hardly naked and had never been self-conscious about her body. She knew she didn't have a bad shape, after all her personal trainer wasn't a complete idiot, and, while she was by no stretch of the imagination perfect, she wouldn't be embarrassed in a bathing suit. Without a second thought about it, she returned to the bathroom to finish dressing.

If she had stayed a few minutes longer, she would have seen a very disturbed Willy Wonka slip quietly away from the house. He had forgotten what he had wanted to tell Charlie, though moments before he had been very excited about it indeed. He was consumed instead with a very strange feeling of fluttering in his stomach. It made him uncomfortable and oddly excited. He couldn't really explain it. All he knew was that the confusion he was feeling had to do with Lauren, this person that showed up out of nowhere to take Charlie's attention away from him. There had to be something he could do to make her go away…

* * *

"Ok, Charlie, ready to go?" Lauren asked, reaching up to adjust her necklace. It had somehow gotten twisted around so that the clasp was facing forward. She had been told by someone a long time ago that this meant someone was thinking about you. She didn't really believe it, but it was a nice idea. At the sound of feet nimbly descending the ladder, Lauren looked up in time to see Charlie appear.

"Ready," he said, settling a hat atop his head.

"Then let's go." Lauren opened the door, holding it for her cousin, and then let it shut behind them. She set off towards the far corner of the Chocolate room, looking for a specific tree. Finding it, she sat down against the back and motioned for Charlie to have a seat.

"What are we going to do here?" he asked, looking around. He absently plucked a blade of grass and chewed on it.

"We are going to wait for a little while. I found them yesterday. It's only seven thirty, they don't get here until eight at the earliest." Lauren reached into her bag and pulled out a gameboy. "I got this for you, I got presents for everyone, but I'm delivering them at random intervals to make it more fun."

"What is it?" Charlie asked, staring at it in confusion.

"It's a hand-held video game," Lauren said, surprised that he had never seen one. She knew they had been poor, but surely they had kept up with the world of technology through newspapers or television? "Here, you just turn it on," she flicked a switch on the side and the small screen lit up. "And then you can play a bunch of games. I brought you Mario Brothers, Tetris, and Mystic Quest," she said, producing the other two games. "Tetris is in now, my personal favorite."

"It's great," Charlie said, clearly not understanding what to do with it, but appreciating the effort.

"Don't worry, I'll show you how to work it. If you're ever caught with nothing to do, this can fill time," she said. With that she scooted next to him and spent the next hour teaching him the joys of Nintendo.

"I think you're getting the hang of it," she mused. "In fact-" she was cut off by the sound of approaching feet. "This is it," she whispered. "Be very quiet." She waited for a few minutes, then motioned Charlie to get up and follow her. They peeked around the tree and Lauren couldn't keep the delighted smile off of her face.

There, on the soft bed of fake moss, lay five very small Oompa Loompas. It was very rare to see a less than full-grown Oompa Loompa, for they mostly stayed in the Loompa Village until they grew large enough to join the others in the factory. Loompa Village was hidden so deeply within the factory that only Willy Wonka could find it, and then only if he was lucky. The baby Oompa Loompas were the size of kittens and absolutely adorable. They crawled all over each other, falling down and making tiny 'peep' sounds. Charlie looked entranced and Lauren knew she had chosen wisely. So far, her day with Charlie was going well.

"We should go, the Oompa Loompas will come back for them soon," she said, tugging on Charlie's shoulder. "I don't know what they would do if they found us and I wouldn't want to insult them."

He nodded reluctantly, turning from the Loompa daycare and pocketing the gameboy. "Where to next?"

Lauren shrugged. "Let's do some exploring."

Charlie grinned, obvious excited about the idea. "I've always wanted to go off on my own, but Mr. Wonka follows me to make sure I don't lose my way. Just once I'd like to have a chance to get really lost before he finds me."

"In that case, we'd better hurry," Lauren said. She looked around, "There was a door around here that the Oompa Loompas use. We can take it, because if we use the boat he'll definitely know something is up."

"Good idea," Charlie said. "Here it is!" the excited statement came. He pulled open the small door and Lauren crouched and slid through. The corridor opened up to normal size and Lauren stood up. "Come on, let's go." With identical smiles they headed off into the bowels of the chocolate factory.

* * *

**Thank you for your reviews. They always make me feel like writing.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Sex rears its ugly head.**

They walked for hours, stopping every time they passed something interesting that absolutely begged a second look. They saw a huge vat of simmering green goo that formed gigantic bubbles on top. Ever few minutes the bubbles exploded and coated tiny, green-garbed Oompa Loompas in another layer of gunk. It must have tasted pretty good, for the Oompa Loompas didn't look annoyed every time they got hit. They witnessed the taffy-making process, which involved 5 taffy pullers the size of eighteen-wheelers. They stopped to watch a large procession of Oompa Loompas doing a choreographed dance with umbrellas through a room that rained sprinkles down from the sky. Eventually they came to a stair case that seemed to spiral upwards forever. With a brief glance at each other they began to ascend.

"I think I need a break," Lauren said ten minutes later. Her legs were aching terribly and Charlie didn't look in any better shape. They sat down on one of the steps and Lauren gratefully set her bag down next to her. They both stretched out their legs and waited for their muscles to cease complaining before finally starting up again. Roughly four minutes later they reached the top, which turned out to be a sort of observation deck. There was a tiny royal blue shag-carpeted room. Everything, including the tables, chairs, and ceiling, had been covered in blue shag. The walls however, were made entirely of glass. On one side you could view the chasm in which colorful firework-like candies blew up in trails of sparkles, on the other was the relatively peaceful chocolate room.

Without discussing it, both Charlie and Lauren pulled up two chairs and a table facing towards the chocolate room. The view of Charlie's house was ideal and it looked almost picture-perfect against the fantasy surroundings. From their lofty vantage point they saw Mr. and Mrs. Bucket run out of the house, laughing and holding hands like happy children. Lauren grabbed her bag and opened it, pulling out two bottles of juice, two wrapped sandwiches, two bags of chips, and finally two bars of chocolate.

"Aren't you glad you have a cousin who plans ahead?" Lauren asked, tossing the surprised-looking Charlie a sandwich.

"Yes!" he said, taking a huge bite. "Otherwise I would have had to dive into the caramel vats to keep from starving."

"We wouldn't want that." Lauren took a long drink from the juice bottle and then capped it. She was reaching for her sandwich when her hand encountered something in the shag. She snatched her hand back as pain lanced through it to see a centimeter long splinter sticking out of her palm. The word was out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying and she clapped her other hand over her mouth as Charlie gasped. "Please do not repeat that to your parents," Lauren pleaded as she removed the splinter with a wince.

"What does that word mean?" Charlie asked curiously. "Grandpa George says stuff like that and Dad always covers my ears. I asked him before but he always says that I have to wait until I'm older. I just what to know the truth." He gave her an endearing look that would have been calculated on anyone else but came across as utterly sincere on Charlie.

"Well…" Lauren began, a bit hesitantly. "If I tell you, you can't tell on me," she said. Secrets bound people together, you didn't become president of a corporation without learning that. Sharing secrets with Charlie would encourage him to share in return, and what was more secret than Wonka's recipes?

"Okay," Charlie said, after thinking about it for a long moment. "I swear."

Lauren nodded slowly. "All right, then I promise to tell you nothing but the truth. I may not tell you all of the truth, but I won't lie to you. Does that sound fair?"

Charlie considered that. "I guess so."

So Lauren explained the concept of profanity and basically what each word meant to the best of her ability. She wasn't sure in the end if Charlie really understood why adults used profanity, but at least the mystery was gone and thus so was his curiosity. "Any more questions?"

The little boy seemed to hesitate. "Well…"

"Look Charlie, you can ask me anything you want. I will tell you the truth and I won't make you feel stupid for not knowing. That's what cousin's are for," Lauren said, before biting into her Wonka Whipplescrumptious Fudgemallow Delight. It really was utterly delicious and Lauren stifled a brief surge of resentment.

Charlie glanced down through the window, watching his parents reach for each other almost desperately. He had never seen his father kiss his mother like that and it made him feel very fidgety. He looked away, embarrassed, and caught his cousin's eye. "Why do they do that?"

"They're in love," Lauren said, looking a bit enviously at the man and woman. They couldn't have been much older than she was, maybe three years tops, but they already had found something in each other that Lauren suspected she never would. Of course, it couldn't have happened to two nicer people, but everyone was entitled to a bit of quiet jealousy once in awhile, right?

"Yes, but they've never done that before," he stated, turning confused eyes on Lauren.

Lauren met his gaze, pursing her lips. "How old are you, Charlie?"

"Ten."

"I suppose that's old enough for the facts of life, provided you keep it to yourself…" At his nod, she continued. "Most of the little kisses that you see are what two people in love do when they want to tell the other person that they are thinking of them. It's something that can be done in front of anyone." She motioned to where the Buckets were passionately entwined in each other. "That kind of kissing is only done in private by most people, so you wouldn't have seen them do it before. It usually leads to other things that most people also keep private."

"What sort of things?" Charlie asked.

Lauren paused, unable to believe that the boy hadn't at least heard something about this in school yet. Well, he was still pretty young, she supposed. Suppressing a blush, she refused to stutter over the word at her age, and stated bluntly, "Sex."

"Sex?" Charlie said, looking confused all over again. "Sounds like something Mr. Wonka might have found in Loompa Land."

Having recently been informed of Wonka's 'adventures' in Loompa Land, Lauren burst out laughing. "Let us hope Mr. Wonka has not been fornicating with natives during his travels," Lauren said mirthfully.

"So what is it?" he asked, a bit impatiently this time.

Sobering, Lauren sighed. "All right, I'm not going to tell you everything, just enough to get by."

"Why not? Don't you know the rest?"

Snorting a bit at the question, Lauren gave a haughty reply. "My dear boy, I know all about it. But part of the fun of the whole thing is to discover everything on your own. I myself went to the library and looked it up in the encyclopedia."

"So I have to go to the library?" Charlie asked, interest renewed.

"That's one way."

"So tell me what you can tell me," the small boy ordered imperiously.

"You're becoming more like Wonka every day," Lauren said, eying him critically. Charlie blushed and apologized. "Don't worry about it; I'm hard to offend."

"So will you tell me?" he asked.

Lauren squinted at the lighting in the chocolate room and nodded slowly. "I'll tell you on your next day off," she promised, noting his disappointed look. "So you should try and get another day off as soon as possible."

Charlie looked up at her and grinned, jumping up suddenly. "I guess we should get back."

"It's going to be a long walk," Lauren said mournfully, packing up the trash left over from their miniature feast.

They walked to the head of the stairs and a lever caught Lauren and Charlie's eyes at the same time. As one they looked at each other, then back to the lever. Noting the curious expressions on each other's faces, they did not have to consult each other before they both eagerly reached for the lever and yanked it back. With a loud crash the winding stairs abruptly turned into a long slide. Thankful that she was wearing jeans, Lauren sat down and motioned Charlie to sit in front of her.

"I don't want to get hit in the back by your shoes any more than you want to get hit by mine," she explained. "This way we stop together."

"Good thinking," Charlie agreed. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They pushed off and slid down towards the ground. It was a surprisingly pleasant ride, though friction was causing an almost unpleasant heat by the time they finally reached the ground. They both stood up, giggling and dizzy, and nearly walked into Willy Wonka as he stood in the shadows gazing at them with an indecipherable expression.

"Hello, Mr. Wonka," Charlie said, feeling slightly guilty for a reason he didn't understand.

Wonka blinked and cocked his head to one side, snapping out of it. "Charlie," he said, sounding slightly false but very happy. "I was just looking for you, how fortuitous." His high-pitched voice broke up 'fortuitous' into it's composite syllables in a truly unnerving manner.

Charlie looked interested, stepping forward. "Really?"

"Yes," Wonka said, very carefully avoiding Lauren with his eyes. "I have finally gotten the recipe for firework truffles right," he said excitedly. "You have to come and see!"

"Oh wow, did it work just like I thought?" Charlie asked, practically jumping up and down.

"Even better, I've gotten fourteen colors instead of just ten," Wonka said proudly.

Charlie looked properly awed, which seemed to please Wonka to no end. "Wow."

"Run along and take a look, the Oompa Loompas are testing it now," Wonka suggested, gesturing down the corridor.

"Ok, bye Lauren," he called over his shoulder as he rushed off.

"Bye," she said, not bothering to wave. Wonka's eyes had finally met hers, for the first time since she had arrived, and she was slightly transfixed. His gaze was beyond intense, crossing the line into disturbing. As she watched they came alight with something very familiar and annoying.

"Charlie likes me better," Wonka said, smirking smugly. Lauren had never been one for violence, believing that a well-delivered insult stung far more than any slap, but now she was extremely tempted to wipe that smile off his chalky face. It was a surprisingly childish reaction and Lauren was impressed at how in-character she was. Still, she suppressed the emotion and took the high road.

"It isn't a contest, Mr. Wonka," Lauren said airily, knowing the self-righteous tone was possibly the most grating in the world.

Wonka flicked a hand in casual dismissal. "You only say that because you aren't winning." With that he sent another smirk her way, tipped his hat in some kind of obscure mockery of the polite gesture, and disappeared down the hall. It took only a few seconds for Lauren to realize that she had absolutely no idea how to get back to the chocolate room and only a minute passed that for her to begin plotting her revenge. Even if she never acted it out, it was still immensely satisfying to imagine as she wandered the corridors waiting for someone to find her.

* * *

**Some elements of this and the previous chapter, such as the gameboy, felt a little out of place to me. Even though the introduction of some American gizmos was inevitable, I'm not sure if they work. A second opinion would be appreciated. I'm also looking for a Beta Reader, since I've been noticing a few errors in my previous work. If anyone is interested, e-mail me or review here and say so.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The next four days passed for Lauren without much incident. She helped with housework, played chess with Grandpa George and Grandpa Joe, and even went to the market with Aunt Emma. She was in the middle of a game of cats cradle with Grandma Josephine and Grandma Georgina when the door was flung open suddenly.

"Lauren, my next day off is tomorrow," Charlie said, running through the kitchen and grabbing a notebook he had left there earlier. "I can't stay, me and Mr. Wonka are still working, but I wanted to tell you! Ok, I have to get back," he called, already on his way out the door.

Turning back to the game, Lauren shrugged. She would have to come up with something for them to do tomorrow. The memory of a certain CD sprung to mind suddenly and she smiled to herself. She had the most perfect idea…

* * *

They had been working for the past four days in the inventing room, an absolute plethora of ingredients surrounding them. Wonka had been in a kind of frenzy, the likes of which Charlie had never seen, and Charlie was unsurprised to find himself caught up in his enthusiasm. They worked side by side, combining various bubbling mixtures with others until they were so close to completing the project, a kind of soft drink that tasted like raspberries and made your skin turn one of any five different colors, that they could practically taste success. The effects lasted for an hour and then you returned to normal. It had been Charlie's idea, conceived when he had seen Violet turn blue during the first tour all those months ago. He had always thought that he would look better if his skin had been green like his eyes. Wonka had agreed, thinking it might be a good prank soda.

Since they had started, Wonka had worn the most adult expression on his face that Charlie had ever seen. He was like a new person. Whenever they took a break he would be all smiles and nonsense, but when he was bent over his work table it was like he was someone else entirely. For once Charlie was able to see him not only as a companion and friend, but as an adult. It was one of the few times when Wonka had taken complete charge of the conversation and activities, giving direction and rarely asking for input. Charlie found he didn't mind, for while he enjoyed Wonka treating him like an equal, sometimes it was an awfully hard responsibility to live up to at a measly ten years of age.

Charlie was startled out of his thoughts by a cry from Mr. Wonka. "What? What is it?"

"It's complete," Willy replied, looking up with a grin that stretched across his face in an extremely eerie manner. Charlie smiled back, running over to see the test that was sure to occur. Wonka was just handing a small glass to the Oompa Loompa next to him when Charlie rounded the corner of the counter. He watched anxiously as the little man drank deeply and smacked his lips in appreciation. Wonka and Charlie watched him closely and slowly his skin began to be tinged just slightly with a pinkish hue. It spread slowly until the Oompa Loompa was a rather interestingly bright red color. Wonka and Charlie both blinked, then glanced at each other, huge smiles breaking out.

Without warning Charlie was swept up in a hug and spun around several times. "We did it!" Charlie yelled. This was the first experiment he had thought of and contributed in to this extent and he was justifiably proud. When he was set back down he couldn't seem to stop smiling and he could tell Wonka was having the same trouble. "I can't wait to tell Lauren," he said happily. Wonka's smile disappeared faster than an Oompa Loompa down a wangdoodle's throat. Charlie's too faded as he saw the expression on his friend and mentor's face. He gathered up his courage and asked the question that had been floating around in his head for days. "Mr. Wonka, why don't you like Lauren?"

Wonka hesitated, then held out his hand. "Let's take a walk, Charlie. The Oompa Loompas will clean up." Charlie took his hand, following him out the door willingly. Wonka often liked to walk and talk; Charlie guessed it helped him to work off some of his excess energy, as though talking alone wasn't strenuous enough to occupy him alone. Wonka, Charlie had learned, wasn't content unless he was busy with something.

"Charlie, did I ever tell you that I have a cou…" he stopped, working his tongue around in his mouth. "I have a c…" He stopped again, frustrated. "I have a Lauren."

"You do?" Charlie asked, curiously. Mr. Wonka never talked about his family, but every third Sunday of the month he would disappear from the factory in his glass elevator and head off in the direction of his father's dentistry. Charlie never asked him about it because his father was always a dodgy subject for the chocolatier.

"Yes. Only her name wasn't Lauren, it was… Susan." He shuddered and Charlie felt the shaking through his gloved hand. "She used to visit us on Holidays…"

-----Flashback-----

A young Willy Wonka stood at the top of the stairs, holding a book in one hand. It was hard to tell with the large metal contraption wrapped around his head, but he looked terrified. At the bottom of the stairs, staring up at him with an affectedly sweet expression on her face was 8 year old Susan. Behind her his father appeared, looking preoccupied as usual. "Willy, play with your cousin. She's only going to be here for a few hours."

Willy scooted backwards, eyes wide, and tried to make himself as small as possible. Susan climbed the stairs, eyes alight with malicious glee. Her perfect pink dress, held up with a small mountain of crinoline, seemed to blot out the light behind her. "Hi, Willy. Let's play executioner. You get to be the criminal," she chortled happily, reaching out with two tiny hands and hooking them into the brace that encircled his head. With a casual strength she hauled him up to his room.

In his memory her visits all blended together. Sometimes she attached magnets to his braces, laughing until she was breathless at the sight. Other times she would make him be the peasant to her queen, fetching and carrying for her all over the house, and making him act as her personal footrest whenever she sat down. Once she made him play cowboys and Indians. She was the cowboy; he was the horse. Every time she left, he vowed never to let her order him around again, even told her this to her face, but every time she hauled him upstairs and he was helpless to resist. Finally her mother, his father's sister, got offered a better job and she moved away. It was shortly after that that he finally got up the courage to try his first candy. In the ensuing epiphany he allowed his subconscious to bury the memories of Susan. He hadn't thought of her until all this talk about Lauren had dredged up all the unpleasantness of the past. He could still remember Susan's last words to him.

"I'm going away to live somewhere a lot better, so I don't care if you tell on me. No one will believe you anyway, because you're a freak and I'm an angel. Everyone loves me, but not even your daddy loves you." Her tiny, childish voice was so very firm and convicted that Willy was absolutely certain this must be true.

-----Flashback-----

Charlie gaped at him. "That's horrible. But Lauren isn't like that!"

"A cousin is a cousin is a cousin," Wonka stated stubbornly, then realized he had managed to say the dreaded word. His eyes widened at a minor revelation and he smiled hugely. "Hey!"

"See, you're already getting better," Charlie said wisely. He looked around, realizing they had made their way all the way to the chocolate room. He opened the door and peered through the gloom, for the lights had already been turned down. Above them the 'moon' appeared, lighting up the path for the benefit of the inhabitants. In the distance he could see his mother and father holding each other tightly, as they had four days ago. It seemed Lauren was right, they only did it when they thought they were alone.

"Ew," Wonka said, looking utterly disgusted. "What are they doing?"

Charlie looked up at his friend, taking in his completely clueless and revolted expression. Surely Lauren wouldn't mind if he just told Willy Wonka? "Look, Lauren told me what they're doing, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Do you promise?"

Wonka looked shifty, cluing Charlie in on what was about to happen. "I promise," he said hiding one hand behind his back.

"No crossed fingers," Charlie said. Wonka squinted in annoyance, but showed both his hands dutifully. "Or crossed toes," Charlie added suspiciously.

"Fine, I promise, no crossed fingers or toes," Wonka said, obviously irritated that Charlie had out guessed him. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

"Ok," Charlie said, nodding as if this unbreakable oath were good enough for him. "Lauren said that people who are in love only kiss like that when they want to have sex," Charlie said, waving his arms mysteriously.

"Oh, sex!" Wonka said, laughing as though he had known all along. He stopped, laced his fingers together suddenly, then crouched down to Charlie's level. "What's sex?"

"I don't know," Charlie admitted reluctantly. "She told me she'd tell me on my next day off. Which is why I'm taking off tomorrow."

"It can't possibly be as interesting as candy," Willy said dismissively, but the curious sparkle in his eye belied this statement.

Charlie shrugged. "I guess I'll find out tomorrow. Are you coming to dinner?"

"No, no, no," he said hastily. "I have a lot of work to do, um fizzbuzzbees to fizz and all that. I'll come tomorrow, for lunch."

"Are you sure?" Charlie pressed, and saw Wonka hesitate.

"Yes, I'm sure," he began to turn, then looked back. "But thank you for asking," he said politely. With that he disappeared back into the factory.

* * *

**Thank you, loyal readers and reviewers.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**I'm almost ashamed to use this well-worn plot device. Tell me if it comes across as too obvious.**

"Charlie? Hey, Charlie! Wake up, lazy bones!" Lauren called up the ladder. A moment later the sleep-tousled head of her cousin appeared from the attic. "There you are; I thought you'd sleep the day away."

"I'll be right down," he called, checking his watch. It was 9:43 and he'd wasted hours already.

Nodding to herself as she listened to her cousin rush about upstairs, she resumed packing her bag. Behind her Grandma Georgina and Josephine were discussing windows and window treatments astheir husbands stood nearby, looking generally uncomfortable."Guys, I'm done packingbut it'll take Charlie awhile to get ready. You want to go now sowe can get set up?" she asked the group. She had cooked up a scheme last night that she hoped Charlie would enjoy and had enlisted all of Charlie's grandparents to help in her plan.

"You wait for Charlie dear, we'll meet you both in the green room. We could use a head start anyway," Grandpa Joe assured her. He picked up the nearby basket and Grandpa George picked up the small box next to it.

"I still can't believe I agreed to this," he muttered, trying to look sour but instead looking petulant. Lauren suspected he was actually looking forward to the upcoming activities. Lord knows Grandma Georgina and Josephine were giggling like schoolgirls.

"Ok, we'll be there soon," she said, waving as they swept out the door.

It took Charlie perhaps ten minutes to brush his teeth, shovel his breakfast into his mouth, and grab the lunch his mother had packed for him. "Have you guys decided to join us later?" Lauren asked, raising her eyebrows and waving her bag before them temptingly.

Uncle James pulled Aunt Emma to him, wrapping his arms around her gently. "Perhaps in an hour or so," he said, smiling down at his wife. Lauren winked knowingly, causing Mrs. Bucket to blush furiously. Lauren laughed kindly and led a mystified Charlie out of the house and down towards the far door.

"Are Mum and Dad coming with us exploring?" Charlie asked.

"Oh no," Lauren said. "We aren't going exploring until after lunch."

"So where are we going, then?"

"To the green room."

Charlie paused, then skipped to catch up. "What are we going to do there?"

Lauren grinned at him. "We're going to dance," she replied, just as they reached the round door labeled 'Green Room' in large shimmering green letters. She pushed it open and immediately the strains of a classic waltz echoed through the empty hall. She ushered Charlie inside before closing the door. Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina as well as Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine were already dancing on the mint-green floor. The sounds of their feet made no sound on the floor above a whisper, thanks to the bedroom slippers they wore. Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina were the experts, gracefully twirling around looking less than half their true ages. Grandpa Joe and his wife were less practiced but more enthusiastic, always seeming to be slightly ahead of the tempo.

"I didn't know they could dance," Charlie half-whispered, for there is nothing so amazing as discovering something unknown about someone you've known all your life.

"Any gentleman can dance," Grandpa George said. "That is why we are going to teach you. "Lauren will be your partner since shedoesn't know how either, though how you're going to manage when you're a head taller than him is beyond me."

"I shall sacrifice the muscles in my back for Charlie's education and the toes of his future dance partners everywhere," Lauren declared melodramatically.

As the next song started, characterized by three beats per bar, all of the grandparents gathered around to make sure everyone was in proper position. They demonstrated the steps and movements, going over everything a few times before moving on. Eventually they had the dance down as well as was reasonably possible. Charlie lacked any natural coordination, but had a phenomenal memory. The steps were remembered easily, but he was inclined to make jerky rather than smooth movements and had a tendency to overcompensate for small errors. Still, for only an hour of practice he wasn't doing badly at all. Lauren was also enthusiastic and despite the awkward, slightly hunched position she was forced to take to dance with Charlie, she had mastered the dance in half an hour. This couldn't be blamed entirely on her own natural ability though, because she was an avid dancer. It was her preferred form of exercise at home actually, because it worked many portions of the body at once andseemedfun instead of arduous. She knew her own willpower well enough to recognize that if she had joined a gym and had to use exercise machines, she would soon have quit and let her figure go entirely.

"You're doing very well, Lauren," Grandpa George said approvingly. "Though I wouldn't have expected anything less."

"Thank you, I've taken classes before but we've never waltzed," she admitted, glossing over when and why she took them. "I prefer faster dances or ones with more movement."

As if in response to this statement, the self-made CD changed from the slower waltzes to a slightly faster-paced tune designed for a tango, as evidenced by the staccato beats that rose above the melody like clockwork. "We can't waltz to this, so I suggest we adjourn for lunch," Grandpa George suggested, looking towards the picnic basket that Lauren had packed the morning.

"It's too early for lunch," Grandpa Joe protested, trying his hand at a tango with Grandma Josephine. She looked a little breathless, but happy.

"Lunch should be whenever you want it," Charlie said, also unable to tear his eyes from the tempting basket.

"Anyone who wants to eat now, can," Lauren insisted, settling the matter by way of walking over and beginning to unpack. "There is plenty for all, in fact there will be more than we need if Aunt Emma and Uncle Joe don't show up."

Charlie's eyes widened suddenly and he smacked a hand against his forehead. "Oh, I forgot. Mr. Wonka said he would come to lunch today. I didn't know we were going to be here, so I didn't tell him not to go to the house."

Lauren considered the likelihood of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket blaming her for being 'interrupted' by the chocolatier and, deciding it was unlikely, enjoyed a moment of amusement at the idea of Wonka being thoroughly embarrassed at what he would find at the little house. "Don't worry, Charlie. I'm sure your mother and father will point him in the right direction."

* * *

Willy Wonka strode casually towards the rickety Bucket house and tried hard to convince himself that his zig-zag like pattern was not his personal way of procrastinating. As he made his way slowly up the steps, strange sounds seemed to be emanating from the back room. It was a peculiar moaning sound punctuated by thumps and the occasional gasp. Brow furrowed, Willy knocked on the door and was immediately rewarded by a loud thud from inside. There was the sound of scrambling, which Wonka recognized easily having heard a lot of scrambling in his day, and then a muffled word which sounded a little like 'shut' and a lot like 'sit.' Utterly curious, Willy pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

At first he thought the place was deserted, an oddity to be sure, but the sound of frantic buttoning was just audible to ears as sensitive as Willy Wonka's. He moved towards the back door where Mr. and Mrs. Bucket usually slept. The debate over whether or not to open the door was rendered moot when it was flung open and Mr. Bucket stepped out.

Looking strangely rumpled and a little flushed, he gave an abnormal smile. "Ah Willy," he said, a bit louder than was really necessary. "How good of you to stop by. What's the occasion?"

More than a little suspicious, but unable to figure out precisely what was out of place, Willy decided it was best to ignore the weird vibe Mr. Bucket was giving off and hope it went away. He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. "I was supposed to come by for lunch, but it seems I am either early or late…"

"Oh, no, not at all," Mr. Bucket replied, eyes shifting nervously towards the bedroom door behind him and back. "Um, we're having lunch in the green room with everyone else. Sort of like a picnic."

"Ah, then I'll just wait for you, then." Willy said happily, puzzle solved. "When you're finished whatever you're doing we can go together."

Sweating slightly, Mr. Bucket nodded and smiled. "Right, I'll just tell Emma then," he said. With that he opened the door a crack, dashed inside, and closed it quickly after him. There was the brief sound of hushed conversation and five minutes later both Mr. and Mrs. Bucket emerged. Willy noted that she seemed to have missed one of her buttons, but politely said nothing.

"Right, let's be off then," Mrs. Bucket said, meeting Mr. Buckets eyes with a mischievous look. "I'm absolutely starving." For the life of him, Willy could not understand why Mr. Bucket blushed so red.

* * *

**Hundreds of thousands of thanks for the reviews you've all sent.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**I shall be gone for a week, but will endeavor to posta new chapter when I return.**

Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina had lunch well underway by the time Mr. and Mrs. Bucket arrived on the scene, Willy Wonka in tow. They looked a little tousled, but not precisely unkempt. It was a look Lauren had seen before and so she did not comment. Mr. Wonka was oblivious, as usual. Because Grandma Josephine was resting, Lauren was practicing the tango with Grandpa Joe, helping him to remember certain steps. It was somewhat slow going, but she was enjoying it. She was very grateful she had packed all of her own CDs now instead of bringing a collection of pop rock, as she had considered. Actually knowing the lyrics to the songs on the CDs was more important than what kind they were, really.

"Hi, guys. I don't suppose either of you know how to tango?" she asked, raising her eyebrows inquisitively. "Or want to learn, perhaps?"

"We can do the Viennese waltz, but that's a rather simple dance. I'm not sure if we could manage a tango with James' two left feet," Mrs. Bucket said, lacing her fingers through her husband's and giving an affectionate squeeze. She glanced behind her and aimed a question at Wonka. "What about you, Willy? Do you want to learn to dance?"

Wonka gave Lauren a disdainful look and then shook his head. "I already know how to dance," he said haughtily. "Oompa Loompas dance almost constantly and because of that they are the best dancers in the world. I learned from their chief himself," he added proudly.

"Really?" Lauren said, infusing her words with all the skepticism that was physically possible.

An offended expression flashed in Wonka's eyes. The man simply couldn't bear to have his abilities doubted, apparently. "I could out-dance anyone." He stated this with a clear challenge in his voice. They both glared at each other, Lauren trying valiantly to stay in character and not verbally lash out at the man. The Bucket family was glancing at each other uneasily, though who they were worried for was indeterminable.

It was, predictably enough, Grandpa George who broke the stalemate. "All right, let's see it then." Wonka looked startled and Lauren glanced back at the man to see if he was serious. Apparently he was, because he was shifting through the CDs she had brought with her with deliberation.

"Grandpa George, there's one that says 'Dance Class Mix.' Put it in and skip to number twenty," Lauren instructed. She took a quick drink of water and adjusted her 'Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them' T-shirt. She moved towards the middle of the green-tiled floor and held out her hand to her partner. Willy stared at it as though it were a snake, his expression of one who has only just realized what they have gotten themselves into. "Come on then," Lauren said, a bit impatiently. At his continued reluctance she employed a bit of reverse psychology. "Unless you're afraid, of course."

Wonka wrinkled his nose and, with the utmost hesitation, reached out and took her hand. His cane was handed off to Charlie, which made him even more twitchy. Lauren felt this was most likely because he no longer had a weapon to protect himself from her. He looked relieved that so far she hadn't attacked him, clearly believing she was closer to a hornswaggler than a human. Completely unimpressed with his dramatics, Lauren rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him, keeping them a hand's breadth apart. Wonka leaned his head back as far away from her as possible, but allowed her to rest her hand on his shoulder and placed his hand on her waist.

The way his face was set in a perpetual cringe seemed to amuse the Buckets, who were whispering amusedly to each other. Lauren was not so forgiving. "Oh, for God's sake, it's not like you're my ideal dance partner either," she said a bit snottily.

Wonka's hand tightened on hers, and though his expression didn't chance she saw a flash of ire in the eyes that tried so hard to avoid locking with hers. "Maybe I'm just not looking forward to having my toes stepped on."

"I haven't stepped on a partner's toes since I was a novice," Lauren said, insulted. She had always, privately, considered herself an exceptional dancer, and her instructors had never said anything to contradict this statement. Now she found herself wondering if they had appreciated her money more than her talent, keeping their opinions quiet to keep her happy.

Suddenly Wonka's eyes were boring into her own, and she tried to take a step back only to find herself held tightly by Wonka's arm. "Bet I can dance better than you." His voice was so entirely that of the boastful playground kindergartener that she was actually stung into replying in kind.

"Bet you can't," she said, her mouth thinning as she realized how hopelessly immature that sounded. She resolved not to give into his baiting.

Wonka narrowed his eyes, then gave that familiar smirk that had so annoyed her in the hallway four days ago. "I'm Charlie's best friend. Anything you can do, I can do better." The utter ridiculousness of the statement coming from an adult was surprisingly infuriating. Lauren stared directly into his dark brown eyes and very deliberately trod on his foot.

At the exact moment that the pain registered on his face, Grandpa George decided they were ready to dance and pressed the play button. The music started, preventing Wonka from responding in kind to her assault. The waltz began and Lauren was honestly surprised when Wonka knew the steps perfectly. He even appeared to have some natural talent, moving smoothly and gracefully. She might have been more admiring if he hadn't been digging his fingers into her waist with what she was sure was deliberate maliciousness. The music began to change, becoming grander in the classic 'big band' style. There were now four beats to every bar of music and she led Wonka into the Foxtrot.

To her disappointment he followed well, completing each series of steps. Lauren would have liked a bit of time to pout, very privately of course, about that, but the music was becoming steadily more challenging. She was forced to concentrate on the dancing lest Wonka out-do her. Even as that last thought crossed her mind, she realized that this whole thing was ridiculous. At her age she had no business acting like this anywhere but in the privacy of her own mind. She had just about decided to stop the little display and take the high road when she caught the malevolent smirk on Wonka's pale face. All mature thoughts vanished from her mind.

Lauren had picked this piece mainly because it was an exercise composition designed to showcase a bit of every style she knew. The slightly irregular music had been pieced together by Lauren herself, so she definitely had the advantage, yet Wonka was rising to the challenge. It was extremely irritating. The music changed again and again, each time inducing the dancers to change styles. Quickstep morphed into the Mambo and then to the Merengue, and Wonka proved the master of each of them. In her partner's eyes she read the same annoyance that she, herself, felt. Feet flickering into a figure eight-like pattern as a sensual Rumba began, she met his gaze purposefully and returned his smirk in kind.

And then the real trouble began.

Wonka looked absolutely furious, an expression which looked beyond strange on his features. She had no time to contemplate just when she had done such introspective thinking about what expressions looked correct on his face because the dance was becoming positively violent now. In less than three minutes the tone had changed from competitive to warlike. Wonka, taking shameless advantage of the fact that he was leading, took every opportunity to whip her in various directions under the guise of complex dance moves. A dull ache in her elbow and shoulder joints formed quickly, a prelude to future and more intense pain, she was sure. In retaliation, she brushed against him whenever vaguely possible, pressing much closer than was strictly necessary. Relishing every flinch and grimace he could not hide, she struggled to avoid getting dizzy as he forced her into a series of spins.

She had her chance for revenge as the Latin Cha Cha began. Lauren threw herself into the hip action, channeling her anger towards Wonka into the moves. She saw him go a shade paler, if that were possible, but he kept up well. Every time her hands fluttered over him he would glare at her more fiercely. Forgetting all about the Buckets, forgetting even that she was supposed to be acting, Lauren resolved that she would not lose this confrontation no matter how little importance it really had in the long run. She recognized the end of the Cha Cha portion and knew it would go immediately into the last style, the Tango.

As the familiar staccato began, the bandoneon featuring prominently, she could practically feel anger radiating off of her partner. She wasn't in a much more reasonable state herself though, so she couldn't bring herself to care. She exaggerated the actions even as he struggled to dislocate some part of her with sudden directional changes. In the back of her mind she was impressed with his stamina, for her limbs were burning from the exercise. Moves became more complex as the music began to crescendo towards the end. The Tango was branching out from normal steps, becoming more of a Tango Fantasia than anything else. Wonka moved faster, forcing Lauren along with him. His hands were everywhere, all distaste for her vanishing in the sheer desire to out-perform her. She rose to the occasion, ignoring throbbing pain in various places as she danced more intricately.

Finally the end came in a thunderous burst of music that spurred her to a dramatic finale. She threw herself against Wonka, only just realizing that she wasn't sure she could trust this partner. Too late to abort the move, the abrupt silence of the music was crowned with her performing a sort of renegade quebrada. All her weight was supported by Wonka, one of his arms wrapped about her waist to hold her against him as the other held her leg at the knee tightly. Her arms were around his neck, threatening to dislodge his ever-present top hat, contributing to the embarrassingly intimate position. Both were panting heavily, all ire temporarily forgotten in simple relief of not having to move any longer. Lauren felt sure she had stretched something in her leg and suspected that Wonka wasn't much better off.

The ceasefire was broken by Charlie's somewhat hopeless sigh. "I could never learn to do that."

Lauren turned her head in tandem with the hermit-like chocolatier, meeting the completely shocked expressions on the faces of each of the Buckets. Wonka reacted as one who has been struck by lightning, leaping away from his partner with a speed vipers would envy. Lauren barely kept from falling and muscles rebelled against further use as she stood. He looked at her for only a moment, but she could see none of the emotions that had motivated their little display. In a way, she wished she had seen disgust in his eyes, for it would have been much easier to continue hating him if he had displayed loathing in turn. The confusion that was written all over his face was much harder to bear, making her feel rather like she had just hit a small child.

She had no time to apologize, even if she had wanted to or had the slightest clue as to what she might say. With a peculiar huff, that might have been a sigh or a sob, Wonka spun on his heel and strode quickly from the room. Lauren, close to tears herself for a reason she didn't understand, refused to meet the eyes of her 'family.' A shameful blush threatening to take over, she waited ten seconds before muttering 'excuse me' and taking the same route as Wonka. He was not in the corridor, for which she was thankful, and she did not see him on the trip back to the Bucket house. When she climbed into Charlie's bed and pulled the covers over her head, she finally gave into the urge to cry, but only a very little bit. As the tears spilled over she had the brief thought that Lauren Derringer would have been able to get her out of this mess easily, but she couldn't for the world think of how.

* * *

**My reviewers are angels, so I encourage all who read this to be a little more angelic.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Sorry this took so long, Chapter 12 will be up later today. Also, asterisks don't work, so I'm usingone of these.**

"Lauren?" the garrulous voice said, echoing up into the rafters where Lauren was lying on the small bed. She sat up, brushing tear tracks from her eyes. "Come down here, girl. I'm too old to be climbing up rickety ladders."

Obeying without thought, Lauren descended to the ground floor of the little house. Her muscles protested being used so soon after their unexpected exercise, but she ignored them. She stood, head down, awaiting the scathing words from Grandpa George that were sure to come. A minute passed in silence before Lauren finally looked up, a bit annoyed that the expected lecture had not materialized. Grandpa George was looking at her with the most peculiar expression on his face, a combination of understanding and pride. "Well?" Lauren asked, sounding very cowed.

"Well what?" George asked, backing up and hopping onto his bed. "I'm not the one who has some explaining to do." He patted the side of the bed next to him.

Blinking slightly, Lauren climbed up and settled in next to him. There was another silence, this one expectant. "I don't know why I did it," she stated quietly.

"That's not the part I'm concerned with," George said, a bit of a smile on his face. "I know why you did it. You're a Bucket, competitiveness is in your blood."

Lauren lowered her eyes again, tracing the pattern on the coverlet with one finger. "Maybe that's it," she said noncommittally, feeling horrible all over again.

"I know you don't like Mr. Wonka," Grandpa George stated incontrovertibly. "That's a natural reaction. When I first met him, I didn't like him either. I thought he was rude, annoying, and a bit light in the loafers, actually."

Interest peaked, Lauren had to ask, "What changed your mind?"

"What makes you think I've changed my mind?" George asked cantankerously. She sent him a look that quite plainly asked who he thought he was fooling. Grumbling a bit, he capitulated. "I saw what he did for Charlie. He made him the happiest little boy in the world. Besides, after awhile you get used to the bluntness and it's kind of refreshing to always be told the absolute truth. That's very rare, you know."

Lauren stared at her grandfather for a long moment, eyes narrowed. Something was slightly off about his reasoning. She thought for a moment what would make her change her mind about someone as insidiously annoying as Willy Wonka. It would have to be something big, for she was a notorious grudge holder. "Grandpa…" she said, unsure exactly how to phrase the accusation.

He glanced at her, taking in the expression. "All right, all right," he said wryly. "There was something else…" He trailed off and when he spoke again, his voice was grave and soft. "Before we came here, Georgina was very different. She didn't know where she was most of the time, didn't know any of us really. It was like I'd lost her but she was still there so I couldn't really mourn her properly," his voice broke, but he cleared his throat and continued. "Then, about a week after we moved in, Wonka came to us with this drink, WonkaVite. He said it would make us feel younger. I didn't want to take it, because why would I want to be younger when my Georgina was gone? He was very persuasive; I don't think I've ever seen him so charismatic as he was that day. He convinced me to give some to her, and bit by bit she's getting better. She hasn't had a bad day in weeks. For something as precious as what he's given me, I can put up with his quirks."

Lauren considered this and had to admit that helping Grandma Georgina went a long way towards redeeming Wonka in her books. She wasn't even really angry with him anymore, if she had ever been. She was angry at herself, because she was the mature one who shouldn't have let such insignificant words and actions upset her. By his very nature, Wonka was childish, not an insurmountable character flaw but one that consistently rubbed Lauren the wrong way. She had no right to put him in such a situation so distasteful to him, especially one that went so completely against his disposition. She wouldn't serve pork to a Jewish man and she wouldn't flirt with a Priest, so why should she put any less value on Mr. Wonka's beliefs? She felt ashamed of herself, never mind that she had been provoked and never mind that he had agreed to dance with her, she shouldn't have done it. Perhaps they had both been wrong but that didn't absolve her. She felt a very strong desire to seek out the man and apologize, but she had no idea where he might have gone.

"I can't believe I let it go this far," she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "It's so ridiculous…"

"You're a cynic, a realist," Grandpa George said easily. "You'll always have problems with people like Willy Wonka. They're so different from us; they have so much faith in dreams and fantasy. You just have to accept that part of them, like I accepted that part of Georgina. Even though I don't understand that part of her, I still love it." He smiled then, the first true smile she had ever really seen on his face.

"I hope you don't expect Wonka and I to fall in love," Lauren said, a bit amused at the idea.

"I do not expect anything except the unexpected," Grandpa George replied, sniffing pompously.

Lauren smiled at his antics and flopped down across the foot of the bed. She began relaxing her muscles, trying to alleviate some of the aching. "Well, I'll try not to pick any fights with him. And there will definitely not be any more dancing."

"Why not? You two looked good out there," Grandpa George said honestly. "Right up 'til the end. You're very talented, the both of you." At her disbelieving look he waved a hand at her. "Oh, it was a little surprising, but who doesn't like a good surprise? That was part of the reason I told the others to wait awhile before coming back, so I could talk to you. We're British, and proud of it, but just because we don't dance like that doesn't mean we can't see the beauty in it."

Giving him a faint smile, Lauren replied quietly. "You guys surprise me too."

There was a bit of a pause, which stretched long enough for Lauren to glance curiously at the man who thought he was her grandfather. He had a soft expression on his face, a very unusual occurrence. "You do look like Irene, about the eyes," he said out of the blue. "I didn't say it when I first met you, you being a stranger for all you're family. I don't warm up to people like your grandmother, you know. I don't like to get personal and make everyone uncomfortable." He paused, eyes suspiciously damp, as Lauren's were for an entirely different reason. Her heart sank in her chest as he continued. "I know you're a good girl. You've none of Irene's wildness in you, and that's a good thing. Wildness never brought anything but sadness to our family. You got the best of me and Georgina's families, the Bucket competitiveness and all the sweetness of the Masbeth side." He stood, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't ever change." With those somewhat surprising words, he left the little house to search out the rest of his family. Lauren, her heart breaking a little, was left behind to contemplate his words.

* * *

Charlie awoke the next morning before his cousin and took a moment to study her. She looked different without her glasses, not better or worse, but different. Truthfully, he was very impressed with her. The few times when Wonka had been angry with him were horrible because it was so hard to meet Wonka's strange, expressive eyes when he was truly upset. That Lauren had managed to do it so many times made her something of his hero. He almost didn't mind that he hadn't managed to satisfy his curiosity regarding this whole 'sex' thing. Besides, if he had never even heard of it before, the information couldn't be all that crucial.

Of course, before he'd come to the factory he'd never heard of snozzwangers either and they were pretty important.

Charlie pulled himself out of bed, grabbed his change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he was off to work, making his way quickly to the great glass elevator. After yesterday's incident he wasn't sure exactly what he would find in the inventing room, but since it was pretty normal for him not to know what to expect of Wonka, he wasn't too worried. The elevator gave a low beep and opened, allowing Charlie to step into the cavernous room that housed Wonka's most secret inventions.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, peering through the colored smoke and around the machinery. "Are you here?" Instead of the long-legged, purple-clad man he was expecting, an Oompa Loompa appeared. He tugged twice on his jeans and Charlie obediently bent down. A few whispered words in his ear, accented badly but not unintelligibly, and he was headed towards the elevator again. Apparently Mr. Wonka had chosen to deal with yesterday's confusion in a rather mature way.

"I saw them all just staring at us, just like the time my f-father made me be in the talent show that time in third grade. I think I told you about that. Anyway, I had to get out of there. I just ran and ran and ran. I don't really remember anything after that until I woke up this morning in the inventing room." Willy said, twiddling his thumbs on top of his chest.

The Oompa Loompa looked up from his notes and peered over the tops of his glasses. His looks clearly said, "Pull the other one."

"All right," Willy admitted reluctantly. "I do remember, but I don't want to talk about it." Another look from the doctor had Willy squirming a bit. "Ok, fine. I ran to my room and I pulled the covers over my head and I talked to myself for awhile until I fell asleep." He sighed in relief. "Boy, am I glad to get that off my chest." He started to sit up, as though the session were complete.

The Oompa Loompa raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look.

"Whaaaaat?" Willy asked, laying back and crossing his arm petulantly. "I was just stretching.

There was a moment of stubborn silence.

"I am not talking about my feelings."

Another silence, this time more stubborn and a little accusatory.

"You can't make me."

The doctor made a note on his pad, not looking at his recalcitrant patient.

Willy caved like a marshmallow sunroof. "I just feel so confused," he confessed. "I don't like cous…" He gave up. "I don't like them. They're evil. They hate candy. They tie ribbons around your braces and poke you with sticks and sit on you for an hour while they watch TV." His voice got softer and dreamier as he went on. "They step on your toes and they smile all the time and they press up close to you until you can feel every inch of them against you…" He trailed off, a bemused smile on his face. The doctor sat forward, looking interested. "She always smells like oranges…"

The Oompa Loompa scribbled an observation onto his notebook and then snapped his fingers. Willy looked up and blinked a few times. "What?" The pygmy shook his head. "You think I like her?" he asked accusingly. The Oompa Loompa tilted his head to one side. "I don't like her. I like Charlie. I like Mrs. Bucket. I don't like her."

The Oompa Loompa made a complicated gesture, his first time communicating in more than meaningful glances. Willy watched the gesture then shook his head as though the very notion was ridiculous. "Poppycock. Besides, wasn't that a little redundant?"

There was yet another silence, which is much better at conveying a message than you would think. Wonka understood it well enough.

"I know you think I should talk to her, but the answer is no." He pursed his lips and shook his head emphatically. "No, no, no, no, no."

This time the look he was getting from the Oompa Loompa was smug. It clearly conveyed the message, "You wanna bet?"

Willy lifted his head and glared. "Fine. But I'll do it because I want to, not because you tell me to." The doctor shook his head at his patient's statement and hopped off the chair. "Hey, where are you going?"

The Oompa Loompa turned and tapped his watch, behind him the door opened to admit Charlie. The bewildered boy looked from the psychiatrist to Wonka, who hadn't yet noticed him. "My session isn't over. I still have time left!" He held up his watch to check, noting the places of the hands. In place of numbers, the face had writing: Not enough time, no time, killing time, plenty of time, tea time, half time, time and a half, and timeless were written in bolt lettering. "It says I have plenty of time!"

The miniature doctor continued for the door, giving Charlie a nod a he exited. Wonka stood then, looking a little put out, and glanced at Charlie. "I guess you think I'm crazy now?"

Charlie grinned. "I've always thought you were crazy; I was just being polite and not telling you."

Willy did a double take and squinted down at his heir. "You've been spending too much time around your… Lauren," he said decisively. "It's really quite unattractive." Unrepentant, Charlie shrugged. There wasn't much he could really say to that, and besides, it was probably true.

* * *

**Alternate phrases I considered here:**

caved like a house of cards in a wind tunnel

caved like Denny's in the face of a class-action law suit

caved like a hollow chocolate Easter bunny

caved like a pair of cardboard shoes in a mud puddle

caved like a wet dishrag

caved like a cold chicken pot pie

caved like a tin-foil umbrella

caved like a couple of sand castles in a tsunami

caved like a folding chair

caved like a bad saline job

caved like a something-that-caves-easily

caved like a mud hut in the rainy season

caved like a coal mine propped up with Barbie dolls

* * *

Reviewers, like chocolate, should be consumed... and what better to be consumed with than my story? 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Apparently symbols don't translate at all on this thing, so in the last chapter the options at the end are alternatives I considered for the 'caved like a marshmallow sunroof' phrase.**

On her ninth day at the Bucket's house, Lauren awoke much later than the previous days. It was eleven, nearing twelve, by the time she made herself crawl out of bed. At that point she was practically starving, but much too intimidated by the thought of all the rungs on the ladder to actually go downstairs. Her legs ached terribly, her back wasn't in much better shape, and her head was entertaining a baby migraine. So it was with almost worshipful delight that she greeted Charlie when he entered his room a few minutes later with the sandwich and coke that he offered her.

"Bless you, my child," she said fervently and a bit melodramatically, reaching for the food. "I thought I was going to just have to jump for it, because there is no way my legs would make it down the stairs now that they've had a chance to cramp."

"You're welcome," Charlie said sweetly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

After she had wolfed down half of the sandwich she was feeling a little better and a lot more suspicious. "All right, now that I've eaten this probably drugged food, you can tell me what you want, Charlie… if that is your real name."

"What do you mean?" he asked, all wide eyes and innocence.

Lauren narrowed her eyes at him. "No ten year old is going to think to bring his cousin food when she doesn't ask for it unless he wants something. Out with it."

"You're really smart," Charlie blurted out, impressed with her deductive skills.

"Elementary, my dear Watson," Lauren shrugged, taking another large bite of the sandwich.

"Well, it's about Mr. Wonka," he began. Lauren looked up, her attention firmly settling on her young cousin. "I went to talk to him this morning and he was in a session with his psychiatrist. Then after he got out, we went to the inventing room and I tried to talk to him about the, er… yesterday." With his natural sense of tact, Charlie avoided the awkward feelings attached to the word 'dance.'

"How did that go?" Lauren asked in a tone that conveyed she had already figured out the answer.

The bed creaked as Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "Every time I brought up anything that wasn't candy he interrupted me and started talking about the great debate: light chocolate versus dark. I never knew candy could be that boring…" Charlie sounded wiped out; usually he was practically bouncing out of his chair at lunchtime after a morning spent with Wonka.

"And you want me to what, duct tape him to the floor and tickle him until he discusses something other than chocolate morality?" Lauren asked.

A little confused, Charlie shook his head. "No, I just want you to… fix it."

Lauren took a long swig of the soda before replying. Charlie's request was both surprisingly mature and childish at the same time. Of course, it did follow in a sense that if she had broken it then she would be able to fix it, but most people would be more likely to believe that she would only make the problem worse by interfering. In that sense, Charlie was taking a very grown-up approach by giving her the chance to correct her mistake and recognizing that she would want to. On the other hand, his assumption that she could 'fix' Wonka was based on a child-like trust in the adults in his family. They had always managed in the past, so they always would manage in the future. Someday Charlie was going to be very disappointed in the world… but not today.

"I may have a plan," Lauren admitted, "but I'm not precisely sure how to carry it out." She finished off the last bite of the sandwich and tossed back the rest of the soda. "I'll need your help with that part of it."

* * *

"Mr. Wonka, Mr. Wonka!" Charlie yelled, running down the corridor to the caramel room. Shortly after his first visit to his father, Wonka had developed an odd fascination with dentistry, or rather the lack of it. In reaction to the new fanaticism that had gripped him, he had invented Cavity-filling Caramels. In theory they would seal any potential cavities off from further exposure to plaque and looked just like real enamel. Unfortunately they were encountering substantial problems, mainly that every caramel they made that worked tasted like chalk and all the ones that tasted delicious only made your teeth a bit cleaner. Wonka was there this morning trying to work out the kinks.

"Mr. Wonka!" Charlie yelled again, finally achieving the response he wanted. Wonka raced out of the caramel room, a neon orange apron tied around his waist, and a concerned expression on his face.

"What, Charlie? What's wrong?" he asked, skidding to a halt when he didn't see anything immediately amiss.

"There's been a Stickjaw spill in the third production room. All the Oompa Loompas are frozen in action and can't move an inch," Charlie said frantically.

"Well come on then," Wonka said, taking off at a run for the glass elevator. "If they stay covered more than thirty minutes then the antidote won't be effective and it takes weeks for that stuff to wear off."

Charlie followed him at a sprint, though his much short legs caused him to lag behind. Consequentially, Wonka reached the elevator first and pressed the button to open the elevator. The opaque extra doors, installed recently to prevent the incautious from injuring themselves, opened at the same time as the actual glass doors of the elevator. Wonka caught site of the person standing just out of sight to the left of the doors as soon as he stepped inside, but was unable to halt his forward motion as quickly was necessary. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was Charlie giving him a mournful look that pleaded for forgiveness. Then he turned to stare in consternation at Lauren Ziegler.

* * *

Lauren's part in the scheme seemed easy at first glance. It required no acting or strenuous activity and consisted of nothing more complicated than the pressing of several buttons. Unfortunately Lauren had misremembered the sheer number of buttons on the glass elevator. If she accidentally pushed the wrong one, she'd wind up in the completely wrong part of the factory, leaving Charlie high and dry. As Charlie exited the elevator and began shouting for Wonka, Lauren pushed herself as far into the corner as she could without depressing any buttons accidentally.

A few moments later the door opened again and admitted one William Wonka, founder of Wonka Candy. The moment he was through the door she slammed her thumb into the 'close' button and randomly jabbed another on the far wall. Apparently the ones on the far wall led to the opposite side of the factory, giving her roughly five minutes of uninterrupted time with Wonka.

And speaking of the maniac, he was in the opposite corner staring at her with unease. His cane held in both hands as though to ward her off, he was looking a little wild-eyed. Lauren hastily raised both hands in the classic 'hey, whoa, calm down, I come in peace' gesture. Wonka looked less than comforted.

"Look, I'm not your best friend and I don't expect you to be mine. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I know I crossed the line, several lines, and I was wrong." She gave him a hesitant smile. "I guess I underestimated my own competitive spirit."

Wonka looked as though he couldn't have been more shocked if she had announced that she was Ed McMahon and he had just won the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes. He very slowly lowered the cane, staring at her as though he'd never seen her before in his life. "Oh…" He looked a little out of it. "Okay," his voice was soft and confused. He lowered his head to stare at he floor, concealing his eyes from her concerned stare with the brim of his hat.

Silence.

Lauren shifted her weight from foot to foot. She scratched her nose, pursed her lips, glanced at her shoes, then out the bottom of the elevator. Shuddering at the endless drop below her she decided instead to focus on her companion, who still wasn't moving. He looked almost frozen in place. She took a very small step forward, ducking a bit to peer under the hat. "Are you all right?"

He jumped, obviously startled and the cane came back up. His sudden move surprised her in turn and she backed up again. "You're trying to trick me," he said certainly, sounding more triumphant than outraged.

"Um… no," Lauren replied, pausing a moment to let the negative sink in. "I felt bad because you looked really freaked yesterday. I do have a conscience you know."

Wonka looked uncertain, but gradually he nodded. A big smile spread across his face and his eyes sparkled. "So if you were wrong, does that mean I was right?"

Lauren rolled her eyes. "It's not that kind of wrong," she stated.

"Nonsense. Where there's a wrong there must be a right," he said incontrovertibly.

Lauren stared at him for a long time before throwing up her hands. "I'll tell you what. If we can shake hands and agree not to fight any more, for Charlie's sake, I'll tell you that you were right."

"Do we have to shake?" Wonka asked, distastefully.

"Just be glad I don't want to make us blood brothers," she said dryly. "Agreed?" She stuck out her hand.

Gingerly reaching forward he grasped her hand. The bones under her grip felt absurdly delicate through the strange gloves he was wearing. "Agreed," he said firmly. They shook once and let go. He looked at her expectantly, leaning on his cane with both hands.

Lauren looked him directly in the eyes and was gratified to see them widen with something close to fear and next to confusion. "You were right," she said very clearly and without any sullenness.

There was a longsilence as they staredeach other in the eye, a little warily but with unconcealed curiosity from both parties. It was Wonka who broke it by inquiring a little breathily, "Right about what?"

Lauren just shook her head as a small bell sounded and the doors of the elevator opened. She actually recognized the room and stepped out, trailing her fingers over the edge of the elevator doors before walking into the little room. As Wonka's gaze burned into the back of her head, she made her way to the door across the way and stepped out. As she turned the corner it occurred to her that she had seen a great deal of the factory on that little ride, enough to get an idea about his processes. For the rest of the trip back to the chocolate room she wondered why that didn't give her a larger sense of accomplishment than the brief chat with Wonka had.

* * *

**The reviews were lovely and, as always, appreciated.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Short, but with essential plot development.**

When she returned to the Bucket house she had made several decisions. The first was that she had procrastinated long enough. There was no longer any excuse for not getting that tour of the factory. On Charlie's next day off, she was going to ask him about it. Charlie had already promised to escort her around the place several times, so there was no reason not to take him up on the offer. The next decision was that she would not be spending any more time with Willy Wonka. After all, she had apologized to him, her conscience was clear, so there was no reason whatsoever for her to seek out his company again. The last decision was the slightly less serious kind, in regards to her gifts. Four packages had arrived for her at the local postal office; she had ordered them the last time she'd gotten into town. On a whim, and to balance the river of guilt that had swamped her when she'd made up her mind to put her master plan in motion, she had decided to give them all out immediately rather than waiting as she had planned.

The trip into town and back took only half an hour and probably would have taken less time, but she had been given a small list by her aunt on the way out that she had to fill first. She returned to the factory, her arms overflowing with bags, juggling toothpaste and tampons. Luckily, or perhaps not, she was met at the door by Charlie who grabbed several of her bags and smiled at her.

"You did it," he announced happily.

"Did what?" she asked, following him towards the chocolate room.

"You fixed Mr. Wonka," Charlie explained. "He's acting normal and he said the word cousin without stuttering, twice!"

"Quite an accomplishment," Lauren replied sarcastically as she navigated the winding path across the sea of edible green grass. "But can he say supercalafredulisticexpialadotious?"

Charlie gave her the famous, and quickly becoming infamous, you're-insane-but-you're-also-family-so-I-forgive-you look. "Maybe…"

"Forget I asked," Lauren instructed him, knocking the door open with her hip and entering. "Aunt Emma, I've got everything from the drugstore. The only thing I couldn't find was the Advil, so I got Excedrin," she continued, dropping the key bags on the table.

"Thank you," Aunt Emma replied, looking up from the gravy she was stirring atop the stove. "Excedrin will be fine. Maybe it'll take care of this headache I've had since yesterday."

"I always take Aleve," Lauren said, stacking up the four presents and balancing them against her hip. "Where are the grandparents?" she asked, looking around as though they might be hiding behind the conspicuously empty bed.

"They're all out sitting by the river," her aunt replied, wiping her brow and leaning down to check on something in the oven. Lauren sniffed and guessed that it was a pot roast. "Why?"

"I have some presents for them. I have presents for everyone, but yours and Uncle James' haven't arrived yet. I picked them all out of the catalogue at the post office."

"Darling, you didn't have to do that. It's a gift just having you," Aunt Emma said with a sweetness that was a little hard to take considering Lauren was lying to everyone in an attempt to undercut the man Emma thought of like a family member.

Giving her an awkward smile, Lauren shook her head. "Yes, but I will be going back to America soon. These gifts will be here after I'm gone. It's something to remember me by."

"Well, if it'll make you feel better to leave something behind," Aunt Emma began dubiously, though she sounded like she was wavering. "But I hope you don't spend to much. You do have college to pay for."

"Don't worry, it's taken care of," Lauren vaguely assured her. She stepped outside, pulling the door shut and heading towards the banks of the chocolate river. She spied her grandparents easily and was waved over as soon as they caught sight of her.

"Lauren, what are you doing gadding about all over this cloyingly confectionary room?" George asked querulously before anyone could speak. "Haven't you got anything better to do?"

"What could be better than going about interrupting your tête-à-tête?" she replied cheekily in turn. She gave Grandma Georgina a wink and the old woman blushed scarlet.

"It's not my fault. The woman can't keep her hands off me, though I can see why," Grandpa George admitted, stroking one hand back over his balding head. Everyone laughed appropriately and Georgina gave her husband a kiss for his efforts. Lauren couldn't help but be impressed by how in love they still were, even after all these years. It seemed incredible.

"Well, I actually came to give you guys your presents. I already gave Charlie his, and Aunt Emma and James' will get theirs soon too, if the postal service will get a move on."

"Lauren, you didn't have to get us presents," Grandma Josephine objected as Lauren passed her a medium-sized box.

"Don't tell her that. I rarely get presents anymore and I have so few pleasures left these days," Grandpa George interrupted. He was already pulling the string off his and ripping off the brown wrapping paper. Everyone followed his example, opening their gifts with only a little trouble on the woman's part. Grandpa Joe helped them each with the loan of a pocket knife and their presents were revealed.

Lauren had gotten them each the same thing, knowing that they both needed a place to keep their little knick knacks. There were two small wooden jewelry box, inlaid with silver. Josephine opened hers with shaking hands and the song that spilled forth was identifiable as 'Pop Goes the Weasel.' A tiny ballerina turned on a silver stand inside it and there was already a necklace inside. "What is it?" Grandma Georgina asked, fumbling a bit with the tiny clasp.

"It's a prayer box," Lauren explained. "There's a little roll of paper inside for you to write your prayer on." Grandma Georgina gave her a hug, whispering that she'd always wanted a jewelry box with a ballerina in it. Grandpa Joe was next, as he had the pocket knife to help him along as well. His box revealed set of practical joke paraphernalia, including a pair of glasses with a fake nose, mustache, and eyebrows attached. He put them on immediately and began holding up individual items and exclaiming over them. He seemed to especially like the disappearing ink, itching powder, and joy buzzer. Lauren had also tossed in a piano-key tie that actually played several songs. It had seemed like something he'd enjoy.

Finally Grandpa George, waiting patiently and politely for the others to finish, unwrapped his gift and smiled. He produced from inside a copy of the book entitled The Brand New Monty Python Book. Lauren had heard he was a fan. Along with the it, because she didn't think she'd spent quite enough on him, was a silver pocket watch embossed with the British flag.

"It has your name engraved on the inside," Lauren told him as he held it up to see if it was ticking. "You know how you're always checking the time? I figured this would help. Except, I think it might be set for the wrong time zone."

"It's very nice, Lauren, thank you," George said gravely. He gave her a one-armed hug, patting her shoulder. "And now I believe it's time for dinner."

Lauren nodded, hopping up to help haul everyone else up off the ground. When everyone was on their feet and presents were well in hand, they leisurely strolled back to the house as the lights slowly dimmed in the background. When they returned the talk turned to the presents and everyone endured endless John Cleese quotations from Grandpa George. Willy Wonka was absent, but not conspicuously so at least. Always before his seat had seemed to almost leer at the family, taking up a surprising amount of space for an empty chair. Grandma Georgina and Grandma Josephine, who sat on either side of it, never ventured to lean too far towards each other no matter how animated their conversation, furthering the illusion that Wonka's absence had a presence its very own. Now the chair seemed more like it was waiting for someone who was simply a little late that night.

"I'm going to turn in early then, since it's Charlie's turn to do the dishes," Lauren said, poking her cousin gently. Charlie made a face and poked her back, but began to clear the table. Meanwhile the grandparents prepared for bed, ribbing each other good-naturedly with the ease of those who had been friends for longer than they could really remember.

Lauren climbed up the ladder towards her room and pulled out her unused journal. For some reason she'd felt a little inspired today. She laid down across the bed carefully, fearing to simply let her body fall onto it as she would've liked to. No matter how many times she was assured that the loft was stable, the wooden beams that held it up looked a little too flimsy for her to feel comfortable throwing anything around that weighed more than fifty pounds. She picked up her pencil and began writing down ideas as they came to her. Before long the entire page was filled and she had started on the second. When Charlie finally came up to bed, Lauren had filled three pages with product ideas that had popped into her mind. She stuffed the journal under her pillow and kissed Charlie goodnight.

"Thank you for what you did with Mr. Wonka," Charlie whispered as they were drifting off.

"You're welcome," Lauren replied softly. Her conscience pricked her on one side and her ambition on the other. A brief scuffle ensued before her conscience retreated looking much the worse for the wear. "Charlie, when is the soonest you can take another day off?" she asked quietly.

Charlie's reply was slightly clouded by sleepiness. "I dunno, maybe the day after tomorrow, I guess."

"Maybe you could take me around the factory then. You know, I haven't seen it all properly yet," she suggested casually.

"Ok, that'll be fun." It took Lauren a long time to fall asleep that night.

* * *

**Thanks you, reviewers. You rock harder than Fred Flintstone. I was completely honored by a positive review from Martian Aries, who I consider one of the best, if not the best, Wonka fanfiction writer out there.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**You can only be young once, but you can always be immature.**

The next day was the monthly market day for the little town just outside the factory. Mrs. Bucket organized everyone except Charlie, who had to work, and gave each person a list. "All right," she began, marching down the line her family had formed. "We are looking for bargains, but let's remember that we want quality over low prices. You all have your orders, so march." She pointed towards the gates and everyone set off towards town, occasionally linking arms to start a conversation with one family member or another. Grandma Georgina slipped up beside her and took her arm, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"This is your first market day, isn't it?" she asked kindly, smiling a bit dreamily.

"Yes, but I'm used to crowds," Lauren assured her.

Georgina nodded, her basket bobbing at the crook of her left elbow. "Crowds perhaps, but there's something magical about a market day. They say you can find just about anything if you just look for it."

"And is that true?" Lauren asked curiously. As far as she could see, it looked like the usual little market-faire combination. Tiny crooked booths were crammed into niches on the street, packed close together and shielded from the sun and weather by worn, white tarps. Everyone was bustling to and fro, wielding baskets and talking a little bit louder than was usual. The only remarkable thing about it was that a previously quiet, reserved village was suddenly a raucous, gypsy haven of sound and color.

"Oh my yes," Georgina was saying. "If you were looking for anything particular, such as a gift for a certain someone, this would be just the place to find it." With that rather perplexing statement she released her granddaughter's arm and sauntered off to join her husband, losing herself in the throng of people.

This was the first indication Lauren had gotten that the Bucket family was expecting her to treat Wonka as a real flesh-and-blood member. It was unexpected, but not entirely a disaster. After all, family members didn't necessarily get along with each other, even if the Buckets seemed to be trying to disprove that theory by sheer willpower. She would get him a present and stop arguing with him; that would be enough, she was sure. And so it was that she found herself consciously trying to find something that he might like as she wandered between the booths, purchasing items from Mrs. Bucket's list.

It was then, of course, that she realized how very difficult it was to buy something for a man who could have anything. If there was anything he wanted or needed, he probably already had it. Her only chance of pleasing him, and she quietly avoided the little voice in her head that asked just why she wanted to please him in the first place, was to find something that he never would have thought he might want. That would be a challenge, but if there was anything that both Lauren's loved, it was a challenge.

She searched for hours, sifting through cartons of old jewelry, stacks of little-known books, and clothes that she wasn't sure had ever been in style. She was about to admit defeat when she came across a little book vendor. He grinned toothlessly at her, snapping his plaid suspenders as she alternated between rummaging through his eclectic collection and shooting him wary looks that had little effect. She emerged triumphantly with a copy of Alice in Wonderland, Voodoo and You, and Sex for Dummies, all three of which went into her bag. The latter were impulse buys, but she thought Wonka just might enjoyLewis Carroll'srhymes and nonsense. She then checked her watch and had to scramble to get to the meeting spot without being too late. She was still the last one back of course, but only by five minutes. Then the entire family walked up to the factory, chattering happily about people and things they had seen.

When they had made it back to the house, everyone unpacked and helped put things away while Mrs. Bucket began puttering around in the kitchen. Lauren offered to help with whatever she was cooking for lunch, but Aunt Emma assured her she had everything under control. Left with nothing to do, she decided to head out into the chocolate room. Grabbing Alice in Wonderland and her carry on bag, she stepped outside and walked down towards a small grove of edible chocolate truffles.

That was how Charlie found her a half hour later, stretched out with her book as she gnawed on a blade of grass. "Hullo," he said, sitting down beside her and pulling a leaf off of the bush nearby. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just looking over Mr. Wonka's present," Lauren said, pushing herself into an upright position. "I'm not sure it's something he'll enjoy. I loved it when I read it the first time, and I still like certain parts, but I never realized what an idiot Alice is." She closed the book and tossed it down next to her. "I don't think Wonka is going to enjoy it."

"Why not?" he asked, glancing at the cover. It showed Alice in all her blonde glory gazing at a large flower with a confused expression on her face. As a book cover it really captured the heart of the story.

"Because I don't know if he likes to read or if he likes poetry," she began, rattling off her concerns. "And I know he doesn't like ignorant children, and that basically sums up the main character. I'm not sure why I even got it for him."

"Well, it's the thought that counts," Charlie said staunchly, giving her a reassuring smile.

Lauren snorted. "Somehow, I doubt your intrepid employer will see it that way." She changed the subject, wanting to talk about something other than Wonka. "So, are you here to tell me that lunch is served?"

"Not for another fifteen minutes. Mum is making something special. Hopefully it will turn out better than that cabbage loaf recipe she tried a year ago."

Making a face, Lauren nodded emphatically. "So, what do you want to talk about then?"

Charlie turned his head, looked her straight in the eye, and said without blinking. "Sex."

Lauren burst out laughing. "Seriously?" she asked, after she had recovered. "I didn't realize you were so interested."

"It's not really that…" Charlie paused, giving her a guilty look. The boy would be hopeless at poker; he wore every emotion on his sleeve. "Well… it's just that." He smiled tremulously. "I kind of mentioned our talk to Willy."

"How do you kind of mention something?" she asked, trying to figure out whether she should be embarrassed or not.

"Well, we saw Mum and Dad kissing, and he asked why they were doing that. So I said that you said that people only do that because they want to have sex. And then he asked me what sex was and I told him I didn't know, but that you were going to tell me about it." He paused, giving her a pleading look. "It's not everyday that I know something Willy doesn't know. Usually he knows all about everything, but now…" he trailed off.

"Let me get this straight," Lauren began, pursing her lips. "You want to know what sex is so you can tell Wonka, because you finally know something he doesn't?"

"Yeah!" Charlie said, pleased that she had caught on.

Lauren considered this, the rational part of her mind taking over to pick the problem apart. She found it very, very unlikely that Wonka didn't know about intercourse, so he was probably trying to get some ammunition, perhaps to use against her with the Buckets. They probably wouldn't approve of her having 'the talk' with Charlie, but it was better that he heard it from her than some mangled telling in the schoolyard. She doubted it would be enough to cause a serious rift, but she didn't want anything to interfere with her plan when things this close to completion. But first things first, because jumping to conclusions never did anyone any good, she would need to pump Charlie for information.

"All right, Charlie. You answer my questions and I'll answer yours," she said, knowing he would agree in the spirit of fairness.

"Ok," he said, thinking it over only for a moment.

"Where did Mr. Wonka go to school?" she asked, wanting to get a little background information.

Charlie shrugged. "You mean primary school or what"  
"Either or," Lauren said, leaning close in the classic secret-sharing pose of spies and conspirators everywhere.

Charlie did the same, frowning slightly as he tried to piece together Wonka's past from the bits of information he had gleaned over the weeks he'd known him. "Well, when he was little he told me he got really special expensive braces. His dad wanted to make sure he didn't mess them up, so he was home school. Then, after he left home, he stayed with his grandparents, but I think they were pretty sick most of the time. I know he home schooled himself while he thought up ideas for his candy shop, though, because he's always going on and on about how he put his candy work before his school work."

"What about college, didn't he go?" she asked, brow furrowed in thought.

"I think he took a mail-order college course, and then he started his business at the same time, but just until he got his certificate."

"But where did he get the money for that?" Lauren asked curiously.

Another shrug, this one indicating that Charlie thought the question of money was inconsequential in the long run. "I dunno."

Reading between the lines of what Charlie had said, it was just possible that Wonka really didn't know anything about intimacy. Actually, considering his attitude, it made a lot of sense. He was isolated, had few friends, and was generally a very odd bird. If he had never been socialized as a child, instead having to come to all his own conclusions about life and how it worked, it made sense that he would emotionally atrophy even as his genius developed. It must have led to an amazing understanding of children and what they wanted, a useful business skill to have. Lauren wasn't sure if she pitied Wonka or envied him his childhood. True, hers had been happy, but all too normal. She could not help being a product of such an upbringing, so certain ingrained beliefs and thought patterns were unavoidable. She would never be able to think as completely out of the box as Wonka.

"So, your turn," Charlie said, interrupting her train of thought.

"Sorry, I was zoning there," she said apologetically, giving him a self-deprecating smile. "Do you have questions or do you just want a brief overview?"

Charlie shrugged, but eagerly rather than disinterestedly. "Just give me the big picture and if I have any questions I'll ask at the end."

Lauren nodded, smiling a bit. "Very logical." She leant back, stretching out on the ground as she thought about where to begin. She was definitely leaving out any graphic descriptions, but certain information would have to be conveyed of course. "Best start at the beginning," she muttered, half to herself. "Alright, inside everyone woman is a number of tiny eggs, each containing half of the chromosomes to make a human being. Inside every man is a huge number of tiny cells that contain the other half of the chromosomes. Whenever people have sex they mix the eggs and the cells together, taking a chance that at least one of the eggs and cells will run into each other and combine. That egg and cell together will grow into a baby in the mother's womb."

Charlie looked to be grasping all of this pretty well, until he suddenly frowned. "Wait, how do they get the eggs and cells together if they're inside the people?"

"Ah, now that is the heart of the matter. I want you to understand, this is an extremely taboo subject in most cultures. Most of the time it isn't appropriate to talk about sex at the dinner table or anything," Lauren warned.

Charlie looked a little insulted. "I know that," Charlie replied defensively. "I don't plan to just go talking about it with just anyone. Come on, what else?"

Nodding, Lauren continued. "The only way to get the cells in with the eggs is for part of the man to actually go inside the woman." Lauren paused, turned away for a moment to control a blush, and then looked back at her cousin. "And we will leave it at that."

"What?" Charlie yelped, sitting up. "But that's the most important part!"

"Which is why I'm going to allow you to figure it out for yourself," Lauren said emphatically. "Besides, I've managed to embarrass myself talking about all this and I'm the most uninhibited person I know when it comes to such things."

Giving her a bit of a sulky look, Charlie turned to stare moodily at a nearby caramel apple bush. "Fine," he mumbled.

"Come on Charlie, come back to the house. You're much too young to brood. Wait until you're a teenager, then it's expected." She stood and held out a hand. After a moment he reached up and grasped it, letting himself be yanked upward. He gave her a slightly sheepish smile, as though ashamed of his momentary lapse in good manners and they talked of other things as they made their way back home.

After lunch, which was actually very good despite looking dangerously inedible, Lauren retreated again to Charlie's room while he returned to work. She was seriously considering Wonka's gift, trying to figure out what else he would like. She had, briefly, considered just handing over the Sex for Dummies book, but she had dismissed that idea for the same reason she hadn't given it to Charlie. She simply felt that knowledge such as this lost a great deal of its mystery when it was simply handed to people. Some things people needed to discover for themselves.

Besides, some of the pictures in that book just might send the man into vicarious mysophobic shock.

After much deliberation, she eventually wrapped Alice in Wonderland up in the purple scarf she had knitted and used leftover brown paper to tie it up. When it looked reasonably neat, she took an ink pen and wrote 'Wonka' across the top. Shrugging she slipped it into her bag in case they ran into Wonka on the tour the next day, then it was off to play chess with the grandparents until dinner.

* * *

**Make my day!**

Terribly sorry about that Lewis Carroll/ C.S. Lewis mix up. I've fixed it.

Also, sorry to use such a cliche as the Sex for Dummies book, but again, I'm trying to use old techniques in new ways. Hopefully when I work it back in, it will surprise you.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**I know you really wanted to see it, but the scene where Charlie shares his new knowledge isn't for a few chapter yet. Sorry.**

"What do you want to see first?" Charlie asked brightly, practically jumping up and down in his excitement. "We could start at the bottom and work our way up or start at the top and work our way down! Or, we could start in the middle and work our way out in a spiral pattern!"

Lauren blinked owlishly and took the time to yawn long and loud. When she was done she opened her mouth to choose, then realized she hadn't really heard the options in the first place. She decided to play it safe. "Whatever you want is fine," she said easily, stretching a little.

Charlie gave her a big grin and took off towards the glass elevator, skidding to a halt and pressing the clear button the side to bring the compartment to them. By the time Lauren made it to the end of the hall, the elevator had already arrived and Charlie was inside waiting for her. She stepped in beside him and pulled her thermos out of her ever-present carrying bag. She took a quick gulp and screwed the cap back on before the elevator took off suddenly. She hadn't seen what button Charlie had pushed, but now that they were rushing off into the bowels of the factory it was a little late to be asking questions.

"I'm going to take you to all the rooms we first saw on the original tour, then I'll show you the shipping room, and then the most important room in the whole factory, the inventing room!" Charlie beamed and Lauren reproduced an excited expression. She must have looked convincing, for the boy's grin didn't fade. Lauren, on the other hand, was feeling strange.

The trip had definitely woken her up, for nothing is quite so startling as a sudden drop in a glass box over thousands of feet of empty air. Now her hands had gone cold, almost numb and her mouth was dry. She held herself very still, letting Charlie's chatter wash over her. She had come across an ocean, infiltrated a close-knit family, and weaseled her way into the most secret places of this huge factory. There was no way in the nine circles of Hell she was letting her nerves take over at this point. She steeled herself, clasped her trembling hands together, and smiled firmly. It would get better.

* * *

And so it did, for in the face of Lauren's iron willpower and determination, it had little choice. Indeed, by the time they reached the nut room, she was feeling like her normal self. As she admired the squirrels, she listened intently while Charlie told the story of Veruca Salt, a story very different from the one most people knew. When the children had returned from inside the factory, every newspaper, magazine, and talk show had wanted to interview them. Unfortunately, and quite inexplicably, the group had found themselves literally unable to talk about certain events in the factory. Generalities were allowed, but as soon as they began to go into detail they were rendered mute. Many suspected Wonka had slipped them something in the candy they'd tasted, but nothing could be proven. Veruca and her father had solved the problem by concocting an entirely false story altogether. They had disappeared with Mr. Salt's publicist and press liaison for a few hours and when they had returned they gave a haughty and obviously false accounting of their mishap. In the end they had both come out smelling like roses… metaphorically, of course.

From the nut room they traveled all over the factory, zigzagging about on a seemingly random course. Charlie seemed to know what he was doing, so Lauren didn't question it. They examined the rock candy mines, watched the Oompa Loompas skating about on a giant pond of Cokernut Ice, and tried to observe the making of invisible chocolate bars. Lauren sampled a little bit of everything, only drawing the line at the Wriggle Sweets, candy that continued to move after you'd swallowed it for at least five minutes, guaranteed or your money back. The idea of having something inside her that continue to crawl around even after it came into contact with gastric juices was not an appealing concept.

They stopped briefly for lunch, which Lauren had packed in her large bag right next to Wonka's gift. It was getting pretty heavy by now and her shoulder ached a bit from the weight. She was seriously thinking of seeking the man out so she could hand it off to him, just to lighten the load. After lunch the bag weighed much less though, so she kept her complaints to herself. They headed then to the Toffee-Apple grove, which was a huge, orchard-like garden where toffee-flavored apples were coaxed from silver-leaved trees. When the place had been admired they exited the other side of the room into a long orange corridor. Looking down it, the hallway seemed to recede into infinity.

The more of the factory Lauren saw, the more impressed she was. In fact she could even admit to herself, in the silent recesses of her mind, that she was just the tiniest bit intimidated. Never in her wildest dreams could she have conceived some of these ideas, and even if she had she never would have thought of them as a practical goal for her product development teams.

Perhaps it was that feeling of intimidation, or maybe just her own natural recklessness, but some unusual impulse welled up in her suddenly as she stared down the ginger hallway. She kicked off one sneaker and tested the floor. Oompa Loompas were almost obsessively tidy, and as she suspected, the tiles were freshly waxed. Turning to Charlie who was giving her a confused look, she gestured to the hall. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked mischievously, raising both eyebrows in entreaty.

Charlie blinked, stared at her sock-clad foot on the floor, then grinned as her train of thought connected with his. "Yes!" he said in a fervent whisper. Perhaps he was a afraid of being heard, a valid concern at this point. Lauren lowered her voice as well.

"Then let's go." Lauren removed her other shoe as Charlie sat down to unlace his, thus she was able to get the first slide in. She took a running start, struggling to keep her balance, then turned her body slightly to the side so she could slide several feet. Only, it didn't work out that way…

In her experience as an employer in America, Lauren had learned early on that most people did only as much as they had to if they thought they could get away with it. Thus she was unprepared for the much superior work ethic inherent in the Oompa Loompa culture. The floor hadn't just been waxed, it had been polished to a high sheen and without the traction on your shoes it was as slippery as egg yolk. She went flying down the hall almost a hundred feet, falling on her backside and continuing to slide. When she finally stopped she looked back at Charlie and it was a testament to the size of her smile that he could see it from as far away as he was. "Awesome," she called back. Charlie wasted no time in joining her.

They spent the next twenty minutes sliding back and forth, up and down that long hallway. They only managed to get across and back five times, for the hallway ran very nearly the entire length of the factory, but they definitely had fun. For awhile, Lauren even forgot about her mission and just enjoyed the ride. Unfortunately it was at that point that the long-absent Wonka finally decided to make his entrance, stepping out of a teal-spotted door and directly into Lauren's path.

Lauren gasped, but there was absolutely no way of stopping herself at that point. She did try of course, forgetting in her panic that floundering around while the ground underneath you is not dependable is never a good idea. She lost what little balance she had and tried to overcompensate for her sudden start, winding up throwing all of her upper body directly into Wonka's. This, naturally, completely bowled him over and his hat went skittering across the ground. There was a tremendous crack, the sound of bone hitting hard tile, and Lauren opened eyes that had instinctively closed just in time to see his head bounce off the floor.

She was lying atop of Willy Wonka. As soon as that registered, she sat up, straddling him as if she was preparing to get to her feet as quickly as possible. No doubt she would have escaped with a lot less contact if she hadn't been so worried about that crunching sound. One of Wonka's hands was trying weakly to lever himself into a sitting position, the other reaching gingerly to where his head had struck. Lauren scooted forward until she was practically sitting on his stomach and reached for his head, pulling it gently towards her chest as she ran cautious fingers through his hair. She shuddered visibly when she came into contact with something wet and sticky, instinctively pulling her hand back to look at her fingers. A thick, red, liquid-like substance covered her fingers, glistening in the light… cherry jam.

Lauren very nearly lost her balance again in relief. She let Wonka, who was looking a little dazed from the bump on his head, lean back down. "Oh my God, I thought you had cracked your skull open," she said, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her jelly-speckled hand. She stood up just as Charlie came running towards them, sneakers on, thankfully. If he'd forgotten they might have had a pile-up. Reaching down before she thought about it, she remembered Wonka's people-phobia just as he clasped her hand firmly in his elegant, gloved grip. She pulled, helping him lever himself up and almost stumbled back as he lurched forward and was brought a little too far into her personal space.

She had never been this close to Wonka, their noses nearly touching, so she had never really noticed what unusual eyes he had. She had known they were dark, assuming as most did that they were brown. In fact they were an extremely rare deep purple color, obvious only when he was directly below a bright light, such as the florescent ones beaming down in the orange hallway. It added a new level of disconcertedness to his stare, so she did the sensible thing and looked away.

Her gaze fell on Charlie, who was standing worriedly next to them holding something in his hand. "Are you ok?" he asked, staring in horror at the red substance on Lauren's hand.

"Don't worry, it's just jelly," she said quickly. She pulled out her handkerchief, now embellished with a large embroidered daisy thanks to Grandma Georgina, and wiped the offending stuff off her fingers. Stuffing it back in her pocket she looked behind the insensate Wonka and saw a squashed little cake on the floor. "I think he must have fallen on it," she said, pointing. "It probably saved him from getting a concussion."

"Lucky," Charlie said unnecessarily. He hesitantly began approaching Mr. Wonka, as though he was some kind of dangerous animal. "Mr. Wonka, I think you broke your cane," he said softly, brandishing a snapped candy-filled walking stick, obviously the source of the earlier cracking sound.

"Oh, thank you, my boy," he said vaguely, still looking a little confused. He took the pieces of his cane and stared at them uncomprehendingly. He then turned back to Lauren, eyes focusing at a level about ten inches below her eyes. "What's that?" he asked, sounding a little more clear-headed. He tilted his head to the side.

Being a rather intimidating person, and not particularly well-endowed, Lauren had very rarely experienced the sensation of men 'talking to her chest,' so it was with confusion that she glanced down at her shirt. "What?"

"DC," Wonka replied, motioning at her chest. "It's written there."

Certain she had gone pale enough that her pallor would incriminate her, she casually allowed her hair to fall across her face. Thinking extremely quickly, she said the first thing that came to her head. Luckily it was a convincing lie. "It's a tattoo," she said easily. "You know Washington D.C., District of Columbia, the capitol of the U.S." This last was tossed off as if it were obvious.

"Sort of a patriotic thing?" Charlie asked, looking curious. "Maybe when I'm older I could get a little U.K. done on me somewhere!"

Lauren laughed a little, hoping it didn't sound too strained. She was supposed to be a better actress than this, though the sudden spotting of her tattoo had come out of left field. "I don't think your parents would approve," she replied, becoming smoother when she realized no one was accusing her.

Wonka was frowning slightly, rubbing at the back of his head as he muttered to himself. "…just looks familiar."

"Mr. Wonka, are you going to come with us for the rest of the tour?" Charlie asked eagerly.

This seemed to snap him back to the present and he blushed suddenly, for no apparent reason. "No, no, I'm in a dreadful hurry, absolutely horrible, hideous, horrendous!" He strode quickly down the hall, purple tails flapping behind him, face as scarlet as his red leather shoes. Halfway down the hall he stooped to retrieve his hat and ducked into a nearby teal door, indistinguishable except for its location from the one he had come out of.

Lauren and Charlie stared after him for a minute in bemusement before Lauren went back for her shoes to continue the tour. It almost seemed as though their encounter with the eccentric Wonka hadn't occurred, except that in the middle of the orange corridor was a tiny, squashed, jelly-filled cake stuck to the tile flooring. This proof would later be found by an Oompa Loompa on his way home early from work. On a whim, he would stop to clean up the small mess, allowing him to arrive at his house at the normal hour. His wife thus has plenty of time to kiss their next-door neighbor goodbye and the discovery of her affair was pushed back two years. As a result, they would stay together long enough to give life to a son who would grow up to make great strides in the social acceptance of pygmies by normal humans. Life was funny like that.

* * *

**This super-fast update was to make up for the errors in the last chapter. I don't know if you caught the second one, but I wrote 'germaphobic' instead of 'mysophibic.' Don't worry, it's fixed now.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**In which Wonka's thoughts are finally heard.**

Their meeting with Mr. Wonka seemed to have galvanized Charlie, for he was twice as energetic during the second part of the tour. They moved with incredible speed past the exploding sweets and the fizzy lemonade swimming pools. She insisted they stop for at least a few minutes to watch the Oompa Loompa's synchronized swimming of course, but he was bouncing on the balls of his feet the entire time. Eventually she allowed him to lead her on simply because it was exhausting to watch him twitch and fidget so.

She had to ask herself, however much she didn't want to, why she was dragging her feet on the tour at this point. She couldn't claim that it was to allay suspicion, because Charlie was clearly anxious for her to see the secrets of the factory. Nor was it a moral reluctance; she wasn't usually troubled by breaking laws, provided it was unlikely that she would get caught. The only logical explanation was that she had grown so attached to the Bucket family that she did not wish to betray their trust in her. It was an extremely dangerous emotion, loyalty, and things would be much simpler if she didn't attach it to those who were, from a technical perspective, her enemies. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now. She would have to suffer the heartache and do her duty to her company… her illegal duty… that no one had asked her to do… that her board of directors would be happier if she gave up…

Lauren shook her head, dismissing those thoughts. If she allowed her emotions to rule her she would soon talk herself out of this altogether. It would be such a waste for her to give up at this point, even if she could. Backing out now would mean not only that her company would likely go under, but that the Buckets would hate her until the end of their days; there was absolutely no gain except her clear conscience. The Buckets would suffer, the people who got laid off from Derringer's would suffer, and she would suffer; could she really afford to be that selfish? Content that logic was on her side, she kicked her guilty conscience squarely in the groin and straightened her spine. It was past time for her to tour the inventing room.

* * *

On the other side of the teal, spotted door, unobserved by Lauren or Charlie, Willy allowed himself to have a very small mental breakdown. He busily hyperventilated, became dizzy, and suppressed a violent urge to throw up. When breathing became easier and the black spots faded from in front of his eyes, Willy sighed and leaned back against the door to think for a moment.

Something was happening to him, and he wasn't at all sure he liked it. He didn't know what the something was, but Lauren was most certainly the catalyst for it. Every time he saw her it seemed he was invaded by strange feelings and urges. Just now, in the corridor for instance, she had fallen on him. She had practically been stretched out on top of him, and he hadn't wanted to pull away. He was even, (Dare he think it?) comfortable! Willy cringed, squeezing both eyes shut. When nothing horrible happened he cautiously peeked out at the world, to make sure it was still there. Upon seeing that it was he shut his eyes again, the better to contemplate these unusual events.

The most disturbing thing, in his opinion anyway, was when she had combed through his hair with her fingers. She had bent his head just enough that he had had the most perfect view straight down her shirt. It should have disgusted him, but he had been strangely entranced. His body had gone cold all over and then suddenly flushed hotly. He had had the strangest desire then… He shook his head in disbelief, but the memory refused to be dislodged. Bad enough that he had not minded her touching him, but he had actually wanted to touch her! Thank the great Candyman in the sky that her tattoo had distracted him, or he might actually have done it! That would have been terrible, though he wasn't sure exactly why. Still, as a chocolatier he had learned to trust his instincts.

He didn't know what was wrong with him or what to do about it. Willy hadn't been this confused since Charlie chose his family over the wonders of the Wonka factory. The only thing to do, he supposed, was to hope the feelings went away. He could always avoid Lauren, but that didn't really sit well with him. The idea of not seeing her again itched, like a chocolate allergy. Giving the bridge of his nose an absent scratch, Willy frowned. As confusing and unpredictable as his emotions were around Lauren, it still felt good. It slowly dawned on Willy that the hot and cold, the tingling and the flips in his stomach, all made him rather happy. A large goofy grin spread across his faintly flushed face. Who was he to deny himself a little happiness?

He stood then, propped his hat back up on his head, and tossed the broken cane towards a nearby Oompa Loompa. He headed off into the labyrinth of his factory, skipping a bit and whistling happily. Unperturbed, the Oompa Loompas worked on while visions of cocoa beans danced in their heads.

* * *

The inventing room was everything it was cracked up to be and more. There wasn't a corner of the room that wasn't being used for some kind of mixing, simmering, or churning. Delicious, rich smells pervaded the place, swooping down out of nowhere to tempt and ensnare the unsuspecting. Huge machines towered above her head, squirting bright-colored liquids and making the most appalling racket. Giant tanks, big enough for several Oompa Loompas to swim comfortably in, were situated at random intervals. Large hard candies were shot into them periodically, presumably for cooling purposes. There wasn't a thing in the entire room that wasn't bubbling, whistling, or steaming; everything was in constant motion.

"This must be Wonka's favorite room," she said, awestruck.Her Developmental Research Department seemed positively lethargic by comparison.

Charlie nodded. "How did you know?"

Shrugging Lauren peered around a huge vat that was oozing yellow fog. "It just seems as though he would appreciate this kind of barely organized chaos."

"This is where we try and make new candies. Mr. Wonka tries to invent at least one new flavor a year. Isn't that brilliant?" Charlie beamed proudly, staring about the room as if he could not possibly imagine choosing where to begin. "I don't know what to show you first," he commented.

"Well, what's that?" Lauren asked, pointing at a huge machine that was giving off a low hum that seemed to resonate in her bones.

"That's the machine that makes Magic Chewing Gum," Charlie explained, walking over to it. "It's gum that is actually a three-course meal. Mr. Wonka says that when he gets it finished, it'll be the end of all cooking and grocery stores."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Lauren said. She was one who appreciated the preparation and texture of a meal as much as the taste. "But I bet it will be a huge hit in America," she conceded.

Naturally, the discussion of the special gum led to a description of Violet Beauregarde's encounter with it. Lauren found herself both repulsed and yet strangely amused by the tale. From the perspective of a child, she supposed Violet had gotten just what she deserved, but at the same time she was only a little girl. Perhaps the blue had worn off in time and Violet had learned her lesson.

"Have you ever thought about the other winners, Charlie?" Lauren asked curiously as they poked about the room, peering into kettles and being very careful not to consume anything that hadn't been properly tested.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, glancing up from a boiling cauldron of some pinkish soupy solution.

Lauren shrugged. "I'm just curious as to whether Violet is still violet or if that Teavee boy ever got fattened up a bit…" she trailed off.

"I never really thought about it," Charlie said, frowning a bit. "Maybe I should look into it."

"Don't worry about it, Charlie," Lauren said dismissively. "I'm just curious; it doesn't really matter."

Charlie nodded a bit, but from the stubborn set of his jaw and the tiny little furrow between his brows, she could tell he wasn't going to let it go. She had unwittingly given him an Idea. Things like Ideas don't just go away when you dismiss them, as anyone who's ever had an Idea will tell you. Still, he did manage to put it at least a bit out of mind, because the tour resumed. It wasn't until they were through the inventing room though, that her opportunity finally came.

"And this is the recipe room," Charlie said, opening a little cupboard-like door in an out-of-the-way corner of the inventing room. "Every time we make something new, we write down the ingredients and exactly how it is made, and we categorize them all in here. This way, we can find them easily and no one can get at them."

"Charlie, why doesn't Mr. Wonka just patent his candy inventions? Then he wouldn't have to worry about anyone stealing them because they would be arrested."

Charlie shook his head. "I'm not sure, but I think it's because Wonka doesn't want anyone to have his secrets except him, not even the government."

"That seems a little overly-paranoid," Lauren said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but that's just the way he is."

Lauren walked over to a purple, glittery filing cabinet and yanked it open, casually paging through Wonka's most secret recipes. "Are these all finished then?" she asked.

"Yeah," Charlie said, he pointed at the lone white cabinet amongst the horde of purple ones. "We keep the ones that haven't been mass produced yet in the white cabinet."

"Hmmm," she opened the white cabinet and peered in. "Mint Jujubes for the boy next door," she read aloud. "Give him green teeth for a month. That's dead useful," she said, not joking at all. She read the next card aloud. "Rainbow drops, suck them and you can spit in seven different colors," she shook her head. "Spitting is a nasty habit."

"But now it's nasty as well as colorful," Charlie said brightly.

"I suppose that would appeal to children," Lauren admitted. She pulled the next card. "Magic Hand Fudge?"

"Oh, that was a major breakthrough. Mr. Wonka told me all about it; he invented it a year ago but he isn't sure the public is ready for it. Apparently you can hold it in your hand and taste it in your mouth. Not smell it, but actually taste it!" Charlie looked so excited at the idea that his face glowed.

"Fascinating," Lauren said, visions of shareholders and investors skipping merrily across her mind. She read it over, committing the recipe to memory. She could never get away with actually stealing the card. "He really is a genius," Lauren said, something close to respect in her voice.

Charlie sat with her for roughly thirty minutes as they perused the white filing cabinet. Even as she sat there, memorizing ingredients and recipes for some of Wonka's most brilliant inventions, she felt a profound sense of guilt steal over her. The young boy next to her had no idea that he was helping her to betray his mentor. He was just so innocently excited to be sharing this with his cousin. And Wonka had never done anything to deserve having his life's work preyed upon, however much she tried to justify her theft by pointing out that it was his own fault for not protecting his inventions under the law.

Furthermore, the more she read the more certain she became that her ruse had not fooled anyone at all. They surely must have seen through her the moment she walked in the door, or perhaps that private investigator had not stayed bribed, but either way they must know that she wasn't really their cousin from America. The whole idea of a twenty-seven year old pretending to be nineteen was ludicrous and a trifle vain, they must know she was older. It only followed then, that if they knew she was not who she claimed then they must have been toying with her all this time, just waiting for her to try to steal Wonka's secrets so they could call the police on her immediately! It had been a little too convenient that Charlie had decided to take her to where the secret recipes were kept and then allowed her to look through them without censure. He'd probably been hoping she'd take the bait!

At that point she found she had to stop. She stood, face pale and hands trembling, and closed the cabinet drawer. A little dizzy, she leaned against the wall for a moment while Charlie looked at her in concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice high and worried.

"Nothing, I'm just feeling a little sick," Lauren said, closing her eyes and swallowing hard. She tried to keep her voice steady. "Would it be all right if we went back to the house? I know we haven't seen everything, but I really don't feel so well."

"No, no, that's all right. It just means there will be more to see next time!" Charlie leapt to his feet, just as eager to help her home now as he had been to take her around the factory. It occurred to her then, though she was feeling a bit too ill to really contemplate it, that Charlie didn't care what they were doing so long as they were spending time together.

Lauren gave a small smile. "Thanks, Charlie," she said, taking his arm. She was definitely going to need all the support she could get. On the way back to the chocolate room she could swear every Oompa Loompa was giving her a hard, unforgiving look. Obviously they knew what she'd done, what she was going to do. She felt watched every step of the way, and the eyes were most definitely unfriendly. When they reached the little house, it seemed that even the Buckets were looking at her suspiciously, and it was to escape from accusing gazes that she retreated up to Charlie's room without supper.

As she lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, she was utterly certain that the next day would bring the realization that they had been on to her from the moment she appeared at the train station. She would be carted off to prison probably, while the whole family would have a good laugh at the crazy American woman thought she could just waltz into the factory and waltz out with a fortune in candy recipes. She felt a profound sadness then, because she had really enjoyed her time here, and was only just coming to understand how terrible it would be when she had to leave this little family forever. It was to those thoughts that she finally dropped off, and to the sudden, inexplicable awareness that she had completely forgotten to give Mr. Wonka his present.

* * *

**Thank you for your reviews. I strive to be worthy of your good opinion.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**No, this is not a mistake. Keep reading.**

She was lying atop of Willy Wonka. As soon as that registered, she sat up, straddling him as if she was preparing to get to her feet as quickly as possible. No doubt she would have escaped with a lot less contact if she hadn't been so worried about that crunching sound. One of Wonka's hands was trying weakly to lever himself into a sitting position, the other reaching gingerly to where his head had struck. Lauren scooted forward until she was practically sitting on his stomach and reached for his head, pulling it gently towards her chest as she ran cautious fingers through his hair. She shuddered visibly when she came into contact with something wet and sticky, instinctively pulling her hand back to look at her fingers. A thick, red, liquid-like substance covered her fingers, glistening in the light… cherry jam.

Lauren very nearly lost her balance again in relief. She let Wonka, who was looking a little dazed from the bump on his head, lean back down. "Oh my God, I thought you had cracked your skull open!"

"No, I think it's all right," Wonka replied, reaching out and catching her wrist in his hand. He pulled it towards him before Lauren could form words to object. His hand slid up to her palm, holding her jelly covered index finger extended as he slipped it into his mouth. Lauren's jaw dropped, not the least because this was Wonka who was daintily removing all traces of jelly from her finger, but also because it felt surprisingly sensual. A little chill ran down her spine, warming up when it hit her abdomen.

Wonka moved to the next finger, wrapping his tongue around the top and sucking slightly. Lauren gasped at the sensation, wondering if she was perhaps going insane. How was it possible for him to be so talented when he was supposedly so inexperienced? He switched to her ring finger, giving it a few more strokes with his tongue than was really necessary to remove the few specks of jam, and then allowed her to draw her hand back. She had no idea what to say, in fact she could barely think. It was so completely unexpected that her mind had gone blank… but it had definitely felt good.

"Did you like it?" he asked softly. Around her the orange corridor turned dark, giving the illusion that they were all alone. Charlie was nowhere to be seen and Wonka was gazing up at her expectantly.

Lauren nodded dumbly, not really sure what she should say. Wonka gave her that queer smile of his, that would have been completely fake if his dark, purple eyes hadn't been filled with sincerity. Then, without warning, he leaned up and kissed her deeply. He seemed confident, even zealous, not at all like she'd imagined he would be… not that she had imagined, of course. It just seemed odd that someone with no familiarity should be so self-assured. Still, it was pleasurable and he was undoubtedly good at it. Lips and tongue were put to skillful use and she never felt suffocated or rushed. In fact, she was willing to admit that he was one of the best she'd ever kissed. She allowed him to pull her down to him, stretching out over his body. She relaxed, entwining her legs with his and realized that the tile floor had gone soft. It now felt suspiciously like a mattress, but there was no time to puzzle this out because Wonka was pulling at her shirt in a kind of frenzy. Clothes seemed to disappear as they rolled about, each article needing barely a thought to remove itself. Intellectually she knew she should stop them but somehow, in the confusion of sensation, she couldn't make herself bring it to an end.

In time they were finally free of it all and Wonka was pressing kisses up her jaw. He suddenly stopped to whisper in her ear, "You taste so good." One of her hands was fisted in his over-long hair and she held him in place, hoping he'd resume his previous activities. "Just like I imagined you would." He pulled back and she gazed up into his face to see the most peculiar expression across his features. Without warning she awoke.

In the darkness of Charlie's room she sat up on his bed, breathing heavily. From the position of the fake moon outside the window, it appeared to be somewhere around two in the morning. The dream had been as intense as it was disturbing, and Lauren was still flushed from the sensations it had evoked. There was only one thing a dream as crazy as that could herald, so Lauren climbed out of bed and fished around in her bag for a box of tampons before heading to the bathroom. On the other side of the factory, a certain someone who shall remain nameless smiled in their sleep and turned over.

* * *

The next day 'dawned' brightly, but Lauren did not see it. She slept in until twelve and awoke feeling chilled and gritty. She emerged from Charlie's room only to brush her teeth and shower, whereupon the smell of the soup the others were having for lunch made her horribly nauseas. She completed her toilette and wandered cautiously back into the house to find Mrs. Bucket washing the dishes and humming an old Beatles tune. 

"Hullo Lauren, feeling any better?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel and walking over to her niece.

"Not really," she replied, almost falling into a nearby chair. It was Wonka's, as it turned out, but she was too tired to move. "I must have picked up a bug somewhere."

"Well, you go straight back upstairs and I'll bring up some soup, crackers, and club soda," she said brightly.

"I really don't think I could eat anything," Lauren protested, not wanting to let on that the mention of the chowder the others had consumed was about to induce her to reverse her peristalsis reflexes.

"Oh, I won't be serving up this stuff," she quickly assured her. "I'll make you some chicken broth. Now go on, up to bed with you."

Sighing, Lauren squinted up at the ladders that led to Charlie's cozy little room. It all looked very daunting, but she screwed up her courage and, like Lewis and Clark, proceeded on. She had to rest for a moment halfway up, but eventually she did get back to the room. She crawled on top of the soft, worn blankets, for it was much too hot by this time to use them, and fell asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

She was shaken awake twenty minutes later by Aunt Emma, who set a tray in front of her with a hopeful look. Lauren smiled weakly at sat up, reaching for a spoon. The broth went down easily, as did the crackers, but the club soda irritated her nose. She put it down to save it for later, waiting for the fizz to decrease a bit. Aunt Emma stayed for half an hour, helping Lauren to start a new scarf, but eventually had to leave to get a little housework done.

Lauren dozed on and off for a few hours, waking each time to go over the ingredient lists and directions for making Wonka's sweets. It was plain to her now, her mind clearer after a long nap, that yesterday's anxiety was nothing but paranoia. There was no way the Buckets could have all managed to pretend so well and certainly Wonka would never have allowed her anywhere near the inventing room if he hadn't been convinced that she was really one of the family.

The doubts and shadows burned away like fog, but the darkness underneath was real. She was having a crisis of conscience, but as always it was a quiet and logical conflict, more akin to a sensible debate between her morals and her practicality. She knew from long experience that if she allowed her company to develop Wonka's recipes that she could live with herself for breaking the law. To her, laws were very much subjective things that could be ignored if one observed proper precautions. No, the thing that troubled her was the personal aspect. She knew the Buckets now, even knew Wonka to some extent, and while she could probably manage a good night's sleep if she went ahead with the plan she wasn't sure if she wanted to. Perhaps if she felt guiltier about it, suffered a little more for doing it, she would feel better about stealing the recipes. It would be an even trade, secrets for sorrow, and then eventually she'd get over it and move on.

Unfortunately Lauren knew enough about herself to understand that it wouldn't be so. She was simply much too prosaic to waste time and energy on something as exhausting as depression or remorse. She would feel a shallow copy of the emotions, then put it behind her and continue running her business. The difficulty was that she wasn't sure she wanted to be that person. She had the willpower to be upright and moral, but wasn't quite sure she had the motivation. If only being good benefited her somehow, then she could feel quite justified in a sudden shift in ethics. She contemplated this as she sat and waited for her fever to break until dinner was announced.

Though she wasn't hungry she was brought a small helping by Charlie, who was allowed, just this once, to take his food up to his room and eat with his cousin. Lauren mostly picked at her serving, having Charlie take it back down with his plate when he had finished. What conversation that drifted up from below centered around home remedies and sicknesses that people had thought were nothing which turned out to be plague. This greatly amused the older Buckets, but was not quite so interesting to Mr. and Mrs. Bucket. In fact, nothing much of consequence happened that night except that Lauren's fever went down and most of her chills stopped. After dry-swallowing a few pills Mrs. Bucket predicted that one more day in bed would clear up the last of her symptoms.

* * *

**Review, for the next chapter will have a great deal of Wonka in it. Reviews make updates come 20 faster.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Apologies for the wait, I was changing ISPs. I hope this Wonka-full chapter in some way compensates you.**

Lauren woke the next morning around eleven when she felt something cool on her forehead. "Aunt Emma?" she asked sleepily, cracking her eyes open a bit. Her mouth feeling a bit dry, she groped for her cup of water and encountered her glasses instead. She slipped them on and found the cup placed in her hands by Mrs. Bucket.

"Your fever is gone," she said with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"A little achy, but much better," Lauren replied truthfully. She stretched and yawned, a peculiar lethargy making itself known. "Of course, I'm still going to milk this sick thing for all it's worth."

Nodding as if she suspected nothing less, Aunt Emma stood. "I was about to bring you up something to eat, maybe toast and jam. Is that all right?"

Lauren sat up and smiled a bit. She was feeling a little hungry. "Oh yes, that's fine. Did Charlie already leave for work?"

"Oh yes, ages ago," Aunt Emma said, checking her watch. "I expect him back for lunch in a little while. I think Willy is coming as well." Without noticing Lauren's reaction to the news, she headed back to the ladder and made her way quickly down to the ground floor. As Lauren lay back on her pillows she could hear the sounds of Mrs. Bucket rummaging around in the kitchen. She must have drifted off, because the next thing she was aware of was tearing herself violently out of a dream in a long, orange corridor.

* * *

Willy Wonka was a man much given to impulsiveness. In fact, you could say he thrived on it. Almost every decision he made was a whim and those that he actually deliberated about usually started out as whims. "Whimsy is a funny word," he thought, pausing on the steps leading to the Bucket home. After a moment of consideration he decided he liked it, but then he liked most words that started with a double-u. Wonderful, weird, wacky, Worcestershire, and wobble came most easily to mind, but there were tons of others, not the least of which were Willy Wonka. He gave a short laugh and knocked softly on the door. It was a whim that brought him calling today.

Mrs. Bucket answered and gave him a welcoming smile, standing aside to let him pass. "Willy, where's Charlie?" she asked, looking behind him for her son, who had practically become the chocolatier's shadow in recent months.

"Oh, he's coming, but I wanted to show up early to see Lauren. I heard that she was sick." Willy was hanging up his hat and thus did not see the perplexed expression cross Mrs. Bucket's features. "Is that okay?"

Closing her mouth, Mrs. Bucket smiled and nodded. "Of course. She's upstairs in bed though, so you'll have to climb a little." She turned then and picked up a plate, handing it to him. "You can save me a trip and take this up to her for me."

Glancing askance at the platter, Willy reluctantly reached out and took it from her. The scent of strawberry jam wafted up and he smiled. There were few fruit flavors he loved more than strawberry, one of them being raspberry and the other snozzberry. But really, who didn't like a good snozzberry? "Kay," he said brightly, giving her a big grin. She returned it with an uncertain lifting of the corners of her mouth that Willy did not approve of at all. If one were going to smile, it should not be something one was uncertain about, but rather something one carefully considered. Mrs. Bucket had a great many other characteristics that made up for her being an indecisive smile-er though, so he overlooked it.

Willy reached for the first rung, balancing the plate easily. It seemed as if it were no more than a hop, a skip, and a jump before he arrived in Charlie's tiny room, a room he had never actually entered before. He took a moment to look around, examining the small bits of colored glass, shiny stones, and candy wrappers with curiosity. He had few toys, but various articles of clothing were scattered about in place of the usual childhood clutter. He noted the slight mess with approval. He didn't like a workspace to be too neat, for that suggested that little work was actually being done, and to Willy Wonka any space was a workspace.

On the top of one dilapidated dresser sat a small horde of more feminine items, perfume, lotion, and to Willy's surprise, antibacterial hand sanitizer. He approved of that. His father had once told him that the hands were the most germ-infested part of the body. Later, when he had lived with his grandparents, who were often in poor health, the main topic had been germs and the diseases they caused. If he had become a bit wary of the insidious creatures, it was with good reason. Willy himself had once contracted the chicken pox and found himself quarantined in his room for the duration of his illness. He had been locked in for almost a week with nothing but schoolwork and his own imagination to keep him occupied. While his grandparents were an extremely reticent couple, speaking only when necessary or to complain of some infirmity or another, Willy had still depended on them for regular human contact. When they drew away from him as he suffered alone in his room, he had coped by pulling away in turn. Throwing himself into candy, the only thing that had never disappointed him, Willy transferred all of his feelings of distaste and of being abandoned to the germs that had precipitated his grandparent's emotional desertion. He had been thirteen when he bought his first pair of latex gloves to protect him from the world.

When his grandparents passed, he had found himself unequivocally alone and with no way of contacting his father, even if he had been able to set aside his pride long enough to do so. He had inherited the house according to their will, along with their savings. Combined with the money left to him in a trust by his mother, it was enough to put him through college and let him start his own business. He had tried to avoid relying on anyone from that point on, even though some delegation was necessary. It wasn't until after his worker's betrayal and the subsequent closing of his factory that he came to realize how much he had come to count on them. Their cheerful conversations on breaks and their exclamations of delight at his new products allowed him the illusion that he still belonged to the world, even if he never joined in.

During the weeks after his factory closed, he continued to invent new types of sweets, but something was missing. He could still spend hours lost in a fever of creation, but when he succeeded it rang a little hollow. He wound up turning to show someone the amazing candy he had just made, and would be constantly surprised that there was no one there to see. Like most geniuses, he had an impressive ego and the fact that no one was there to appreciate his inventions was a constant thorn in his side. Eventually he became so frustrated with it that he set out into the world to seek out new candy flavors, simply to break up the monotony.

The discovery of the Oompa Loompas had been a Godsend.

Now with an entire tribe who, amazingly enough, seemed to like chocolate as much as he did, he had all the audience a prodigy could ask for. The best thing about them though, was the fact that they were prevented from telling anyone any secrets because they could not leave the factory. It was perfect, a brilliant idea, and one Willy still congratulated himself on today. Why, if it weren't for that gray hair, he might very well have stayed holed up with them in his factory forever!

In time he had come to trust them though, for you couldn't spend every day of your life with such nice people and not come to be friends. Slowly he had begun to believe that they wouldn't tell his secrets, even if they could. That still did not mean he trusted normal people, but it was a big step for him. If it weren't for that, he never would have been able to take the leap of faith required to trust in Charlie and his family. While sometimes, in the privacy of his own mind, he acknowledged that he just might be waiting to be discarded by the boy, whenever Charlie was around he always felt vaguely guilty for indulging in such ignominious thoughts…

A clatter from downstairs distracted Willy from his thoughts and he blinked in confusion. He must have been staring blankly at the wall for a long time, for his eyes were dry. "Why am I holding toast?" he asked quietly, looking around. He spotted Lauren, asleep in Charlie's little bed, and suddenly recalled his mission. Stepping closer, he set down the plate he was still carrying and reached into his jacket. After a bit of fumbling, he pulled out a small purple vial embossed with a gold double-u.

Now came the problem, for he had not expected Lauren to be asleep. In fact, he had deliberately chosen lunch time because he did not know at what time she rose in the morning. She sighed in her sleep and turned over, draping one arm over the bed. Willy took a quick step back and her fingers just brushed against the hem of his coat as she settled. Willy breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close.

"Willy?" Mrs. Bucket called upstairs, her brow crinkled. "What are you doing up there?"

He peeked his head over the edge of the boards to look down at her. "I'm waiting for Lauren to wake up," he said seriously, withdrawing his head and turning back to the bedside.

Shaking her head and giving another indefinite smile, she called back. "Just wake her up dear. She needs to eat."

Willy popped his head back out, looking a little confused. "How do I do that?" he asked.

Mrs. Bucket checked the stove and, satisfied that everything was going well, hefted a bundle of laundry into her arms. "I leave that to your discretion," she replied, heading out to the washroom.

Perplexed, Willy returned to Lauren and stared down at her. She looked very happy asleep. It would be rude to disturb her, down right uncouth, unforgivable, unconscionable really! He glanced at the vial in his hand and sighed. Clearing his throat he said in a loud voice. "Lauren." There was no response. "Lauren?" Nothing. "Lauren!" Not even a sigh this time. Willy weighed his options and decided a note was his best bet. He'd give the vial with instructions to Mrs. Bucket and leave it at that, because there was absolutely no way, not a chance in the nine circles of Slugworth Co. that he was going to do anything more than ask the girl to wake up.

He turned to go, actually had one foot on the top rung of the ladder, when Lauren gave a little moan. Willy froze, a strange little thrill wriggling through him. His eyes were drawn inexorably to the girl on the bed, who had turned over onto her back again. She looked to be dreaming; her head was tossing from side to side a little. It might have been a nightmare, but as Willy drew closer he was struck by the sudden certainty that she wasn't exactly having a bad time. Her cheeks were a little flushed and she seemed to be breathing a bit more heavily than usual. Her sheet slipped down and Willy reached forward to pull it back up to her chin. His movements were arrested by Lauren arching off the bed slightly, causing him to move his hands quickly lest he touch any part of her. His eyes were drawn inevitably to her chest, which was moving rapidly up and down with her short gasps. He didn't know why it seemed so hypnotic, but he found himself as unable to tear his eyes away from it now as he had been two days ago.

She was wearing a more revealing top than usual, which allowed a clear view of the small letters tattooed on the curve of her left breast. D.C. glinted up at him in curvilinear font that teased his memory and he felt that same urge to run his finger over it. His eyes flicked up to her face, but she looked to be totally in the grips of her dream. Surely it wouldn't hurt anything? After all, no one would know…

He stretched out a latex-covered hand and very, very gently ran two fingers over the mark, yanking his hand back as soon as he had touched it. Lauren made no move except to clench her fists a little around the sheet at her waist. Relieved, Willy wiped his brow, glad to have that over and done with. Lauren gave a small gasp and Willy's eyes flew to her face only to see hers still closed. The woman apparently could sleep through anything.

He examined that wayward thought. Why should she wake up at the touch anyway? It was not as if he had poked her, and the chest was not a particularly unusual place to touch someone. Just because he would have woken at a touch didn't mean everyone would after all. His gaze drifted back down to the lettering without him really realizing it as he thought about perspectives. Lauren took another deep breath and another little moan escaped her lips. Willy felt muscles in his stomach tightening at the unusual sound. The desire to touch the tattoo returned, as strong as ever. Surely, once more wouldn't disturb her…?

Feeling extremely daring, Willy reached forward and touched it again, letting his fingertips linger as they traced the lettering. The feeling of familiarity increased, along with the delightfully satisfying sensation that one always gets when one is engaging in an activity one usually denies oneself. He felt he was almost on the verge of recognizing some deeper meaning in the tattoo and his brow knitted in concentration, but just as everything was about to fall into place, Lauren arched her back again. For just a moment before he ripped his hand away from her, he felt the weight of her breast fit perfectly against his palm.

He stumbled backwards, knocking over a pile of books. He was sweating profusely and was suffering from an unusual stiffness in a certain notable place. Trying to take deep breaths he nearly fainted when Lauren sat up, one hand pressed to the spot his hand had touched only moments ago. She was gasping nearly as much as he was and looked as disturbed to see him standing in the room as he was to see her sitting up. Of course she must have been awake the whole time, tempting him with her irresistible tattoo of doom! Willy tried to scowl but it manifested as a guilty wince. He sought frantically for something to say, but she beat him to it.

"Mr. Wonka, what are you doing here?" she asked a little anxiously.

Willy could think of no reason she had to be anxious, unless it was guilt at using her magic tattoo against him. He still couldn't believe he had actually touched her. He gave a shudder at the thought, but to his surprise and unease he couldn't tell if it was a shudder of disgust or something altogether different. He flushed hotly and grasped at an answer to her question. "I… I brought you toast!" he said, grabbing up the plate.

Lauren stared at him for a long moment, trying desperately to calm her rapidly beating heart and to cool her blushing skin. She would have liked to kick off the blanket and sheet, but she already felt naked enough in the tank top she was wearing without showing off her bed shorts. She had no idea what Wonka thought he was up to, but he looked nervous, which was unusual enough. Her gaze drifted to the plate he was holding and abruptly she flushed scarlet. Red jam, Wonka holding red jam, Wonka gazing at her with an indefinable expression while holding red jam… none of these were images she was prepared to confront so soon after the dream she had just had again.

"Um, thank you," she said, not reaching for the toast in any way, shape, or form. "You came all the way here to bring me toast?"

He seemed to be regaining his equilibrium, or at least his cheery disposition, because he smiled. "I also brought you this!" He made a flourish and offered her a tiny purple vial. "Wonka Vite!"

Against her will, Lauren was intrigued. She leaned forward, remembered her attire, and pulled the sheet up with her. "Isn't that the stuff you give my grandparents?"

"It is indeed, but it cures just about anything… even," and here he leaned forward as if to bestow upon her the location of El Dorado, "the common cold." He looked so intensely proud of himself that she almost felt compelled to applaud.

"That's really incredible, Mr. Wonka," Lauren said sincerely.

Wonka blinked at her, then squinted. "You know, you should really call me Willy."

Again Lauren felt her face flush, not in the least because of certain American connotations attached to the word 'willy.' She knew it was immature, but she couldn't for the life of her stop thinking about it. She fell back on politeness to mask the confusion. "Thank you, I will then," she said with admirable equanimity.

Willy, and she now felt compelled to call him that now that he had given his permission, it had absolutely nothing to do with the incredibly erotic dreams she had been having, smiled hugely. Apparently it took very little to make him happy. She reached out to take the vial and noticed that as he handed it to her, his finger lightly brushed against hers. Something told her that there was something important about this moment, but she was struggling to control her reaction and didn't analyze it.

Glancing uncertainly at Willy's encouraging grin, she unstopped the vial and sniffed. The overwhelming smell of peppermint and menthol hit her, and she coughed at the tingling in her nasal passages. With a shrug, she downed the purple liquid and sputtered a bit at the strong taste.

"Sorry," Willy said, looking a little contrite. "Menthol is the only thing strong enough to overwhelm the taste of vitamins. Truly awful things, vitamins," he continued, almost to himself. "Broccoli and Brussels sprouts are chock full of them, which explains why they taste so revolting."

"At least I'll probably have fresh breath for a long time," she said, trying to see the silver lining as her eyes watered.

"For about a month, actually," Willy exclaimed, perking up.

Lauren nodded. "I think I'm already feeling a little better," she confessed. Her legs didn't feel as achy anymore. In fact, she almost felt well enough to try some of that toast. Her eyes strayed to it and this time she did not blush. She did feel a little warm, but that could have been fever, right? "So… um…" Lauren experienced the uncomfortable sensation of being at a loss for words.

"I… I guess I should be going." Willy looked strangely reluctant, but then he seemed to get a hold of himself. He gave her a little bow, which looked odd without his top hat, and flashed her his thousand-watt smile. "Bye!"

"Good-bye… Willy." Lauren surprised herself by not stumbling too badly over his name. He nodded and disappeared down the ladder with the agility of a squirrel. As soon as he was gone from sight, Lauren flopped down on the bed and sighed heavily. She didn't want to get up and she was afraid to go to sleep again… it was going to be a long day.

* * *

**My reviewers, you rock. Keep up the flattery and such, it's getting results.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**I present chapter 19, in the hopes that it will find favor in your eyes.**

When Charlie arrived in the Inventing room the next day, it was to another unusual sight. Where usually Willy was feverishly cooking up some interesting new flavor, or painstakingly plotting out a new candy process, this time he was still. He sat at the table, perched dangerously on a stool, head balanced on one hand. It was obvious he wasn't looking at Charlie, in fact he did not appear to be looking at anything in particular at all… This is not quite true, for he did look as though he were looking at something particular, but it wasn't the kind of something particular that was actually there and that anyone else would be able to see. When Charlie approached him he seemed not to notice. He continued to gaze dreamily into space, a queer little smile on his lips.

"Um… Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, a bit timidly.

Willy started badly. With a little squeak he overbalanced, tipping over the stool and falling gracelessly onto the floor. He sat there for a moment, hat askew, and looked completely surprised. Then he was up on his feet again, all smiles, with the most nervous, guilty expression on his face that Charlie had ever seen. "Charlie my boy, whatever are you doing here?" He gave a little laugh, only succeeding in making him appear more edgy.

"Um, well, it's 9:00, Mr. Wonka," Charlie said respectfully.

"Is it?" Willy glanced suspiciously at his watch, shook it, then held it up to his ear. Nope, it was still making the usual popping and whirring that said it was in working order. Shrugging a little, Willy turned his attention back to his heir. "So, ready to get started on that new batch of Fizzy Pink Lemonade?" he asked.

"Sure!" Charlie said enthusiastically. He smiled, ready to get going. There was nothing he loved so much as work. Willy centered his hat on his head and searched for his cane before he remembered that he didn't have one anymore. He would have to remember to have another one commissioned. Shaking his head, they started off into the twisted labyrinth of the factory.

"Uh… Charlie?" Willy asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. Luckily Charlie wasn't a boy much given to picking up on nuances yet, and he looked up at the Chocolatier with a curious expression.

"Yes?"

"Were you planning on taking Lauren the rest of the way around the factory soon?" Willy scanned the halls as he talked, but betrayed his interest when his eyes continuously flicked over to scan Charlie's expression closely.

"I suppose," Charlie admitted. A worried look crossed his face. "Is that a problem? Have I been taking too many days off lately?"

"Oh no, no no!" Willy assured him with another little laugh. "I was just wondering if you were going to take her on the hard candy boat?"

Charlie's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's a great idea. She'd love that!" His face fell, "But I can't operate it alone yet."

Willy clenched his fist nervously, projecting nonchalance with all his might. "Well, if it means that much to you, I could help you with it. Maybe even chaperone you around using the boat entrances…"

"Oh, would you Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked eagerly. "That would be fabulous!"

Willy preened a bit. "Well, as a special favor to you, my boy, of course!" At that point Charlie became completely overwhelmed with affection for his partner in candy, which could be expressed in only one way. He wrapped his arms around Willy's middle, hugging him tightly. It can be taken as a sign of Willy's incredible fondness for Charlie that he smiled and only winced a very little bit.

* * *

"Lauren!" Charlie yelled loudly as he ran into the room. He was panting a little and looking around wildly for her. "Mum?"

"She's outside sitting down by the willow tree," Mrs. Bucket said calmly, stirring a pot of gravy. "Tell her it's lunchtime."

"All right!" Charlie called, already heading out the door.

"Freeze!" Mrs. Bucket called suddenly, and Charlie obediently paused in the doorway. "Is Willy coming for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, yeah," Charlie said, bouncing to be on his way.

Mrs. Bucket nodded, pleased. "All right, off with you then." Charlie bounded outside, scanning the horizon for the willow tree. When he spotted it, he headed straight towards it and discovered his cousin under it scribbling furiously in a little black book.

"What's that?" Charlie asked curiously, sitting down next to her.

Lauren looked up, startled, then smiled at the boy. "Oh, just a little journal. Sometimes I like to write down what I'm thinking so I can keep it straight in my head."

"So, what are you thinking?"

Sighing, she turned over to her back and inhaled a deep breath of swudge-scented air. "I'm thinking that I'm going to be very sorry to be going home."

"But you're not leaving for another…" Charlie frowned, counting in his head, "sixteen more days!" He smiled triumphantly. "So you should wait to be sad until it's closer to the end."

"Well, what do you have to cheer me up?" Lauren asked mischievously.

Charlie's eyes lit up as he remembered his news. "Something very, very good. Mr. Wonka has agreed to let us go the rest of the way through the factory on his boat. It's not the fastest way around the factory, but it is the most fun."

"Let me guess, a boat made out of chocolate?"

"Oh no," Charlie said, sounding horrified. "A chocolate boat would be much too fragile to hold up to the currents in the river. Why, we'd be dumped into the chocolate for sure. The boat is made of hard candy."

Lauren sighed, "I suppose I should have known." She squinted up at the lights that mimicked the sun. "Isn't it lunchtime yet?"

Charlie blinked. "Um, yes. I was supposed to tell you but I got distracted."

Smiling, Lauren stood up and offered a hand to Charlie. "Come on then, before Aunt Emma has to come out and look for us." She slung an arm about his shoulders companionably and headed back up to the little house. When they entered she released Charlie to set the table and ran upstairs to grab an elastic band for her hair. As she was putting it back hastily, she caught sight of Willy's present, still wrapped and sticking out of her bag. She had once again completely forgotten about it.

Lunch was an informal affair where everyone served themselves and listened to the recent goings-on around the factory. Charlie proudly announced that he knew the secret of fizzy lifting drinks and it had everything to do with endorphins and super-concentrated helium. Grandma Josephine had her own story to tell, of the fake cockroaches she had discovered in her drawer of unmentionables that morning. Apparently Grandpa Joe's prank had not been well-received, though she had gotten over the surprise well enough by then to let him give her a chaste apology kiss on the cheek.

Afterwards everyone scattered again to the four winds. Charlie went back to work, the grandparents played scrabble, and Lauren helped Aunt Emma with the mending. She was actually getting to be quite deft, a fact which surprised her. Before she had come here she had been an absolute failure at all things domestic beyond cooking. Now she was developing so many new skills she almost couldn't keep up with them. When the mending was done, she helped with dinner, a small pre-roasted chicken with mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and peas. Aunt Emma was also putting the finishing touches on her family recipe for cranberry sauce. It was hate at first sight and Lauren knew she'd be keeping away from that come dinnertime.

When most of the preparation was complete, and Aunt Emma was happily stirring the gravy, Lauren gathered all the grandparents together and gossiped with them as she set the table up. She was putting the runner on when Aunt Emma spoke up from the small kitchen area. "One more chair, dear."

"What?" Lauren asked, glancing away from Grandpa George's spot-on rehearsal of the Dead Parrot Sketch.

"Willy's coming to dinner tonight," Aunt Emma explained, placing a steaming bowl of peas towards the right side of the table. She frowned. "I was sure I had mentioned it."

Lauren wasn't quite sure how to feel about that, but since she really couldn't stop the man from coming she decided to say nothing. After all, she had done everything she had come to do, and with a great deal more ease than she expected. Now she had only to keep the peace until her scheduled departure date and everything would be smooth sailing. It turned out she wasn't required to speak anyway, because Grandma Georgina and Grandpa Joe were very happy to chime in in her stead.

"Willy's finally been able to get away from his work now?" Grandpa Joe said heartily, pulling a chair out for his wife. All had been forgiven since the cockroach episode, but one could never be too careful. "Good, I missed having him liven things up around here."

"Bah," Grandpa George said. Not wanting to be outdone, he also held the chair for his spouse. "A lot of blather and folderol about toot sweets and animals without vowels in their names; that's all it is!"

"I enjoy some nice folderol with my dinner. It aids digestion," Grandma Georgina said, her weathered face dimpling.

Mr. Bucket chose that moment to make his entrance, hanging his uniform neatly on a hook and stopping to give Mrs. Bucket a long kiss as she juggled the chicken. "Evening, dear," he said fondly, wrapping arms around her waist from behind.

"James, you're going to burn yourself," Mrs. Bucket replied, but there was a smile in her voice that was echoed in her eyes. "Go and wash up now. You're covered in grease!" Mr. Bucket grinned and leaned over to whisper something in her ear, at which she blushed becomingly. "You'd like to think that," she said mock-indignantly. She gave him a glare, at which he retreated, laughing. "And no more of that talk at the dinner table!" She turned back to the curious eyes of her family, set the chicken in the center of the table runner, and retreated to the kitchen to gain control of the redness in her cheeks. Lauren watched the grandparents trade knowing looks and was secretly amused at being left out of the group's silent exchange. No doubt they thought she was too young.

When she had pulled over another chair and rearranged the settings a bit, Lauren went to get silverware. Mr. Bucket returned, scrubbed clean and smelling of lilacs, to sit at the head of the table. All that was missing now was Charlie and Willy, who usually brought dessert when he arrived. As the clock struck exactly seven, the door burst open and the two hurried through.

* * *

**Review: it does a body good! A great many people have been asking if this will eventually have a love scene. I'm not completely confident in my ability to write one, but I'll do my best. However, the love scene will only be posted on adultfanfiction . net. This archive will feature a tasteful fade-to-black. Sorry to be such a tease.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**After an incredibly long battle with writer's block, I admit that I may need a beta to encourage me and prod me to work through it. Anyone wishing to apply may, and as an incentive, I'll forward to you the much-anticipated Wonka/Lauren confrontation scene just before she returns to** **America.**

* * *

"We're not late!" Charlie said, breathing heavily. 

"No, we're exactly on time, which is just as bad and possibly worse," Willy lamented, shrugging off his jacket and hanging his hat. "But we've brought something to make up for it!"

Charlie grinned, "When is dessert not dessert?"

"When it's spelled with only one 's'?" Lauren guessed.

Charlie looked taken aback for a moment, but shook his head. "No, when it's gum!" He looked entirely gleeful and his expression was mirrored in Willy's expression as he produced nine sticks of gum clothed in striped wrappers.

"Dessert gum!" Willy crowed victoriously. He and Charlie took their seats, Charlie next to Willy, and Willy between Charlie and Lauren. Grandpa Joe sat on the edge, next to Mrs. Bucket at the foot, and across from him was Josephine, then Georgina and George, and finally Mr. Bucket at the head. All looked equal parts intrigued and cautious.

"Isn't this what got Miss Beauregarde into all that trouble in the first place?" Aunt Emma asked as the gum was passed out.

"Oh, I've worked out all the flaws by now," Willy said, trying to discreetly draw away from Lauren on one side and Charlie on the other. "It's as safe as blueberry pie!"

No one looked very reassured, but Joe shrugged and reached for the gum, opening his mouth to pop it in. "Ah, ah, ah," Mrs. Bucket scolded. "Dinner before dessert. You'll give Charlie and Lauren bad habits." At this Lauren and Charlie glanced at each other around Willy, greatly amused. Grandpa Joe set the gum down obediently, trying to appear chastened but looking only irrepressible.

"Would you do the honors, dear?" Aunt Emma asked, nodding towards her husband. Mr. Bucket bowed his head, said grace, and then carved the chicken. As one, everyone began filling plates and passing things back and forth. Lauren offered the peas to Willy, who took them only to pass them on. Lauren agreed with his assessment. Peas were the most beastly things she could imagine off the top of her head. Her eyes fell on the cranberry sauce and she amended that last statement.

"So, have you been working on the dessert gum all afternoon?" Grandma Josephine asked, wiping her mouth daintily with a heavily embroidered napkin. With little to keep them occupied all day long, Georgina and Josephine turned to embroidery. As a result, every cloth in the house had been sewn within an inch of its life.

"We started off working on the Super Sour Slush Suckers, but they were a little too powerful. We couldn't think what the problem was until we found out some of the machinery was stuck shut with treacle. When we were unclogging it, Mr. Wonka hit his head on the pipe near the flux capacitor and suddenly he thought of a way to fix Wonka's Magic Chewing Gum."

Here Willy broke in, anxious to explain. "It was so obvious. It was the desserts that were messing us up because we had tried to cram too much into the gum. There simply wasn't the space for all that flavor, so it had to go somewhere."

"And it definitely went somewhere with Violet," Grandpa Joe piped up. "It went somewhere and kept going."

Willy nodded and continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "So I put the dessert in it's own separate piece of gum and presto! It works."

"Did you test it?" Lauren had to ask, giving the gum a suspicious look.

Willy looked a trifle offended. He gave a little pout and Lauren was surprised at how un-ridiculous he looked. "Of course I tested it, which explains why we were so dreadfully on time earlier."

"Well, then I guess it'll be all right," Aunt Emma said firmly, as though she could will it to be so with the force of her belief. In truth, she didn't look so certain, but probably would have died before admitting that she didn't have full confidence in Willy's inventions.

Dinner continued with barely a hitch, excepting when the cranberry sauce was offered. Most everyone seemed to flinch when Mrs. Bucket sliced into it except for Charlie and Grandpa George. They both took generous helpings of the wobbly, maroon substance, causing Willy's face to contort wildly in an effort to appear polite. Lauren saw his hands grip the bottom of his chair, likely so he wouldn't be tempted to stick one finger down his throat in the classic 'Ew, gross, I'm-gonna-barf-just-smelling-that-stuff' gesture. Mrs. Bucket took a small helping and Mr. Bucket, at the silent urging of his wife, also accepted a miniscule serving. Lauren caught him trying to hide it under his mashed potatoes shortly after that.

When the cranberry sauce had been safely replaced on the table, conversation picked up again. It was discovered that Mr. Bucket had been visited by Grandpa Joe's bounty as well. He had found itching powder in his socks, courtesy of his father-in-law and had scratched at it all through the employee morale speeches that morning. Eventually he had been forced to rinse his feet off with the outdoor faucet and as a result, he had squished wherever he walked for a solid hour. Luckily he seemed to take the prank a lot better than Grandma Josephine had. His description of the shift manager's face at the wet boot prints he had left was interrupted by a loud burp.

"Charlie!" his mother scolded, shaking her head.

Giving her an apologetic look, Charlie pressed his napkin over his face. "Sorry, Mum." He burped again, this time a little louder. "Whoops!" Another burp interrupted his apology, this time coming from Grandpa George. He looked surprised as Georgina shot him a disapproving glance. Another belch from Charlie took his wife's attention away and for awhile everyone at the table looked like they were watching a tennis match as their interest switched between Charlie and George. Grandma Josephine offered George some water, hoping it would calm the noise down. Joe, taking advantage of the distraction, nudged Lauren in the side.

She pried her gaze from Charlie and her grandfather to look at him. He gave her a quick smile and directed her attention downward just as he slipped something into her hand. She stole a glance down and saw a small white packet labeled 'Burping Powder: Safe to add to any food!' Lauren grinned hugely and looked at the cranberry sauce, which was wriggling in all its evil glory. She made sure no one was looking, then moved her hand ever so slowly to tug on Willy's jacket. He flinched, but not too noticeably, and turned to meet her eyes. With a conspiratorial grin, she looked down at the packet in her hand, waited 'til his eyes followed, then glanced meaningfully at the cranberry sauce. Comprehension lit up his eyes from behind and he beamed at her, then Grandpa Joe. Suddenly the burping was much funnier.

As Lauren, Joe, and Willy all tried to control their expressions, Charlie and George were burping longer and louder than ever. Every time he made a particularly loud noise, Charlie would giggle loudly until he was interrupted by another belch. Finally Mrs. Bucket insisted that they both go outside and walk it off because she had had quite enough of this nonsense to last her a lifetime. Of course, the conspirators all staunchly volunteered to go with them and allow the others to clean up.

Everyone snatched up their sticks of gum and headed outdoors, Charlie and George still giving out the occasional large burp. Joe waited until they were mostly out of ear-shot of the house before mirthfully confessing the truth.

"You what!" George asked, more angry at being fooled than at being infected with the burps. His expression might have been more threatening if he hadn't let loose another burp a second later. He and Charlie advanced with one accord as Grandpa Joe suddenly realized the danger he was in. It was much too late though, as George and Charlie had already descended on him, tickling with all their might. If there was one think Grandpa was vulnerable to, it was tickling.

Lauren and Willy looked at each other nervously. Words were unnecessary. At the same time they turned and sprinted off in opposite directions, leaving Joe to his fate. His caterwauling was audible for quite a ways. "After them, Charlie!" George called, continuing to poke at Joe's ribs as the other man cackled and begged for mercy.

Glancing behind her, Lauren saw Charlie spot her and come running her way. Knowing he could easily catch her in open country, she ducked into a grove of caramel apple trees. Dodging swudge ferns and low-hanging branches, she wormed her way through the patch of trees and gazed furtively out of her hiding place. The chocolate room was only a little larger than a football field, so she would have to be sneaky if she wanted to make it past George and Charlie. What she really needed to do was find a good place to wait them out and then move past them while they were distracted.

She moved stealthily out of the trees and entered the tall reeds near the chocolate river. In the distance she could hear George shout to Charlie that they would have to 'flush them out.' Grinning a bit from the excitement of it all, she sprinted suddenly from the cover of the reeds to a rocky overhand next to the chocolate waterfall. She was considering her next move when she happened to glance sideways. Behind the waterfall was a little cave!

Lauren licked her lips. It would be the perfect spot to hide, if there was enough room for her to scoot behind the falls without getting covered in chocolate. Taking a deep breath, she scooted sideways onto the ledge and propelled herself quickly into the little cave, but not before she felt the warm, sticky chocolate splash across her front. She looked down and reflexively said a word that sounded a little like fake and a lot like funk. If she'd been wearing a sports bra, it never would have happened.

A fake rock protruding out through the waterfall sprayed chocolate out in a thin fan of liquid. It allowed her to see out well enough, but no one could see through the spray very well. Lauren bent down and peered out, trying to spot Charlie, George, or Willy in the light of the small 'moon.' As if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard a great shout that sounded like Charlie. Willy came racing into view, holding his top hat on his head as he looked around carefully for a place to hide.

"Grandpa, I saw him!" Charlie yelled from somewhere close by.

Willy looked a little panicked. Being held down and tickled probably seemed like a fate worse than death to him. In that moment Lauren held his fate in her hands, and in a burst of uncharacteristic generosity, she decided to be merciful. She waited until he made a move towards the reeds, then saw the same little overhang she had used for cover before. He made for it, recognizing that the weeds wouldn't hide his tall frame half so well. Charlie rounded the bend, Grandpa George close behind, and it seemed that Willy surely would be seen in a moment. Before that could happen, Lauren reached out, grabbed his lapels, and yanked him into the little cave after her.

"Mmph!" Willy objected as she covered his mouth with her hand.

"Shh," she hissed, uncertain how well they could hear over the splashing of the falls. Charlie looked around suspiciously, peering through the gloom at the ground. He must not have found any evidence, because he and Grandpa George set out in different directions again to continue the search. Lauren breathed a sigh of relief, breathing heavily as her system processed the adrenaline. This was the most fun she could remember having in a long time.

Willy resumed his struggle to escape from her touch and she removed her hand from his mouth. He did not jump away from her, as she had half expected, but in the dim light she could see him scrubbing vigorously at his mouth with one sleeve. "I got chocolate on me, which means whatever was on me, is in the chocolate!" he said in an urgent whisper.

"I got chocolate on me too, but we have more to worry about than a bit of germ transfer, unless you want to get the same treatment Grandpa Joe got." In the dark she couldn't see if he'd gone paler than usual, but he didn't mention contamination again.

"I'd forgotten about this place. This is where the emergency waterfall shutoff is located." He gestured further into the rock hollow where there was a metal wheel protruding from the wall.

Lauren nodded, though she wasn't sure it would be seen in the near darkness. "We need a plan," she said, her voice all business. "If we can make some kind of distraction, then we can sneak back to the house and act like we've been there the whole time." She looked over at Willy, who seemed to be giving all his attention to the mechanics of the pipes behind them. "What do you think?"

"That sounds fine." His disembodied whisper reached her ears, but he was too far back for her to make out the outline of his body in the dark. He sounded a little on edge though, perhaps from being trapped in such a small place with a person who was likely covered in germs. Lord knew he had been jumpy on the elevator ride they had taken.

"Unless he's been having dreams too…" Lauren stopped, examined that thought, then grimaced. She banished it from her head, the mental equivalent of dropping it on the floor and grinding it into dust. There was no way she was even considering the idea of a mutual attraction, because she just might jinx herself or will it into being or something. She frowned. Hadn't there been something in that Voodoo book about wishing too hard and bringing about unforeseen consequences? She'd have to reread that part…

A brief rustling sound in the bushes next to the chocolatefall made Lauren freeze. She could sense Willy doing the same, trying to make his breath as shallow as possible. She was immensely relieved when an Oompa Loompa appeared instead of Charlie or George. She scanned the ground, spotted a small chocolate pebble, and threw it with passing accuracy at the worker. It didn't hit, but it flew past his head and he turned to look in the direction it had come from. She motioned him over quickly.

"Willy, come here. I have an idea," Lauren said, grinning. Willy walked over, saw the Oompa Loompa, and noticed Lauren's sneaky expression. His own features brightened. Plotting was something Willy was always up for.

* * *

**There is a Back to the Future reference in here, props to the person who points it out.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Many thanks go out to my three wonderful Betas, who each pointed out numerous flaws and still managed not to repeat themselves... much to my embarrassment.**

Charlie strained his eyes in the darkness, trying to spot someone moving around in it. They had been looking for Willy and Lauren for almost fifteen minutes and Charlie was almost positive they had teamed up in order to escape their rightful punishment for getting him and Grandpa George banished from the dinner table. A few fake cockroaches were nothing between friends, but the cranberry sauce was sacred!

"See anything?" George whispered from behind him, making Charlie jump slightly.

"Not yet. They must have found a good hiding place."

"Wait." There was a pause as he squinted into the dark. "Can you see that?" the man asked pointing. In the barely illuminated chocolate room, a dark shadow was sneaking tentatively through the trees, bent over to avoid being casually sighted. Grandpa George grinned, patting Charlie on the back. "You take the left and I'll take the right," he instructed, every inch the sergeant giving orders to the loyal soldier.

Nodding seriously, Charlie began to circle to the right in order to head the target off. He was careful to be quiet and keep to the shadows, muffling the occasional burp with one hand. The figure didn't seem to be aware of them because they stayed on target and did not increase their speed. Charlie followed Grandpa George with his eyes, waiting until George nodded to jump out from behind the apple-toffee tree and tackle the person.

"Gotcha!" His arms wrapped around the person, who immediately fell backwards. At least, the top half of them did, bending at an improbable angle and falling away from the bottom. Charlie and George stared at the Oompa Loompa who was revealed and at the one who was still squirming to escape from the bag it had been wearing. Apparently they had been standing on each other's shoulders with a bag over top the both of them to make it look like one person. Naturally they both grinned excitedly at the two would-be ambushers and then scurried off to work, humming under their breath. Willy had not been exaggerating when he'd mentioned how they enjoyed a good joke.

"Come on, Charlie. Let's head home," Grandpa George said, shaking his head with annoyance and a very, very small amount of amusement. Still, that there was any amusement at all had to be some kind of testament to how much Grandpa George liked Lauren, for he absolutely hated to lose.

"But what about Lauren and Mr. Wonka?" he asked, almost tripping over a round, jelly-filled rock.

"I'm sure they've beat us there by now," he assured him, wrapping on arm about his shoulders. The boy grew an inch every day it seemed, for he could now comfortably lean on him.

"I didn't know they were so good at this game," Charlie admitted, leading them towards the path.

George was silent for a moment, thinking. When he finally spoke, it was more to himself than his grandson. "They do make a formidable pair."

Charlie nodding, adding the word 'formidable' to the list of words he'd been meaning to look up in the dictionary for awhile now. "Can I eat dessert now?" he asked anxiously. George laughed.

* * *

When Charlie went to bed that night, he found sleep elusive for some reason. He replayed the events of the evening in his mind as he tried to force himself to rest. He remembered Grandpa George and himself returning from their fruitless search only to find Lauren and Willy sitting at the table with the others, happily chewing their dessert. Lauren had splashes of chocolate across her front and Willy's shoulder was coated in the stuff. No one felt it prudent to comment. When Charlie had shot them a curious, and to his credit, only slightly resentful, look they merely smiled at each other conspiratorially. Obviously they were very pleased with how their plan had worked out; Charlie couldn't help but agree that they made a good team.

Eventually Willy had said goodbye, giving everyone a cheerful smile, and the rest of the Buckets retired to bed. Lauren had told him the story of their convincing the Oompa Loompas to help them, but refused to say where they had hidden so successfully. When he had pleaded, she had only smiled enigmatically and distracted him by asking about the tour. This gave him an excellent opportunity to get back at her by promising a surprise for her tomorrow but refusing to tell her what it was. He hoped she would be pleased when she learned that Willy himself would be conducting said tour personally.

The small mystery hadn't prevented Lauren from falling deeply asleep with enviable ease. Meanwhile Charlie stared at the ceiling and counted cotton-candy sheep. It was no use, the ceiling was only contributing to his wakefulness as he automatically tried to find patterns in the knotholes and grain of the wood. He let his gaze wander, alighting without his planning it to on the books Lauren had stacked against the wall. All of them were placed with the bindings outward, the titles clearly visible… all but one, that was.

Charlie slid out of bed, careful not to disturb his cousin. He approached the pile and began to shift them three at a time until he came to the backwards one. His eyes immediately widened at the title and he glanced nervously at Lauren to see if she was awake. Satisfied, he opened the book to the table of contents and slid his finger down until he saw the chapter labeled 'Sex: what it is and why we do it.' That seemed to about sum up everything he'd been curious about, so he turned to chapter two and began to read.

An hour and thirteen minutes later he closed the book, placed it back wrong-side out in the stack, and replaced the others on top of it in the same order he'd taken them off. He climbed back into bed and tried to assimilate this new wisdom into his brain. Try as he might though, it was impossible for him to imagine anyone he knew ever even thinking about doing anything like that.

"At least I finally know," he thought, smiling a bit proudly. He felt like he'd grown up a little in the last hour, equipped as he was with the full knowledge of the facts of life. He was also feeling a pleasant sense of superiority, for finally he could explain to Mr. Wonka exactly what sex was and why anyone would ever bother with it. He imagined the look on Willy's face, confused and a little disgusted.

To his surprise, the idea no longer seemed to have the appeal it once possessed. Perhaps it was that when you learned of what sex was, you invariably achieved a little maturity as well. He recognized that if Lauren had told him exactly what sexual intercourse entailed he would have been horribly embarrassed. He doubted he'd ever have been able to look her in the eyes again, or at least for a very long time. He was pathetically grateful to her for withholding the information. With his mind made up, he turned his attention to other matters, namely the tour scheduled for ten o'clock the following morning. Unfortunately he fell deeply asleep before he could do more than imagine the reaction his cousin would have to the method of transportation he had arranged.

* * *

The dream that night was almost expected by this time. When Lauren woke up she could remember it all in vivid detail. Willy had pushed her up against the rock-like wall of the cave behind the chocolate waterfall. They had shredded each other's clothing in their frantic desire to be closer to one another, touching and tasting everything they could reach. She experienced anew the feeling of completeness and wild abandonment that had pervaded the dream encounter, knowing her face must be burning red at that point. She was so glad it would just be her and Charlie today, because after a dream like that she had no idea how she'd ever face any adult again, let alone that man.

"Lauren, hurry up! It's nine thirty and we leave at ten!" Charlie yelled up the stairs. His youthful voice dispelled any lustful thoughts which might have threatened to cling to her in the waking world as well. She pulled herself out of bed, grabbed a pair of jeans, and searched through her suitcase for a T-shirt. The only clean one she could find bore the risqué message: "Slippery when wet." She pulled it on anyway. Hopefully no one would get the joke. Jewelry was thrown on, followed by shoes and socks, all in less than ten minutes. She grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and descended from the loft to see Charlie eating a bowl of cereal.

"I didn't realize we were on a schedule," she said pointedly, grabbing an apple. "I don't even have time to pack us a lunch."

Charlie shrugged. "Don't worry, I've taken care of everything."

Raising an eyebrow, Lauren grabbed the cereal and poured herself a bowl.

"What does that mean?" she asked between bites.

"It's part of the secret," he said solemnly.

Sighing, Lauren finished her cereal quickly and stood up. The motion caused her bag to swing back and hit her hip. Something gouged into her side and she realized what it must be. "I need to remember to give this to Willy," she muttered, peering into the bag at the package.

"Lauren, these letters came for you," Aunt Emma said from where she was sweeping the floor.

"I'll have to read them when I get back," she said, watching Charlie frantically tie his shoes on. "I'm going to be late."

"I'll put them on Charlie's desk," Emma said, putting the two envelopes into her apron pocket for safekeeping.

Lauren nodded, catching the door frame in one hand as Charlie attempted to pull her from the house. "Thanks. If we aren't back in five hours, send a search party!" Aunt Emma nodded seriously as her niece disappeared from view.

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**Review and tell my Beta readers what a good job they're doing.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**This chapter took forever, I know and I apologize. Ican't imaginewhat's come over me. I'm postively lethargic these days. Rest assured though, that this fanfiction will be finished, come Hell or high water, and be reassured that I do not own Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.**

"So… a surprise?" Lauren asked the jubilant Charlie as she was led down towards the chocolate river.

"Yes," Charlie said shortly. He looked like he was almost bursting to tell.

Lauren raised an eyebrow. "Can I get a hint?"

Charlie shook his head emphatically, clamped his lips shut as though to seal in the secret, and quickened his pace. Lauren had no choice but to follow him, unless she wished to sit at home, curiosity unfulfilled. They crested the hill and looked out over the chocolate river, to one side a group of Oompa Loompas were adding sacks of sugar to the liquid. Lauren waved to them, but didn't stop to chat… or rather, gesture.

They reached the edge of the river, stepping closer to a section that was free of swudge reeds. Peering around, Lauren didn't see anything that could possibly be a boat. She glanced at her cousin, about to ask where it was, when a rhythmic thumping began echoing faintly in the distance. From Charlie's expectant expression, she assumed the sound proceeded the boat. Five minutes later a huge pink seahorse-shaped ship glided into view.

When Charlie had mentioned a boat, Lauren had imagined a rounded rowboat, sort of a large gobstopper hollowed out into a sailing vessel. She should have known better, because everything in Willy Wonka's factory was not only functional and edible, but beautiful. The whimsical Viking-esque vessel was being paddled along by rows of Oompa Loompas, with one at the stern beating out a rowing rhythm on a large drum. It was at the bow though, that Charlie's surprise stood in all his purple and red glory. Lauren felt her cheeks flush, hoping no one noticed.

"Nice surprise, Charlie," Lauren said, her voice a little tense but not overtly upset. She avoided Willy's gaze as they waited patiently for the ship to reach shore. Charlie jumped into the boat first, then unexpectedly reached back to help Lauren in as well. Finding herself presented with two helping hands, she stared for a moment in confusion before accepting both the small, short-fingered grip and the larger, purple-gloved hand with quiet aplomb. She smiled at both of them and took a seat on the bench next to Charlie, expecting Willy to resume standing at the bow. Instead he took a seat on the bench right next to her, fidgeting a little. They weren't close by any means, a perfectly respectable distance lay between them, but Lauren recognized how wildly out of character it was for Willy to voluntarily put himself anywhere where another person could accidentally touch him.

The more she thought about it, the more she remembered additional instances in which Willy had shown himself to be unusually comfortable with her. Him making a special trip to see her when she was sick, even if it had been Charlie prompting him, his allowance for her touching him during yesterday's dinner and afterwards at the waterfall, and his agreeing to chaperone them around the factory at all. All of the events bespoke a certain fondness for her, which made her feel nervous and a little queasy. As many dreams as she had had about him recently, she had accepted that she might have a latent crush on him. The fact that he was mysophobic and completely wrapped up in his work had allowed her to feel safe in her feelings. Even if, by some miracle, he noticed her strange affection, he would never acknowledge or return it. She had felt secure, both in the knowledge that her feelings were only lustful and that his were nonexistent. Now that security was threatened by Willy's recent actions. As much as she enjoyed the feelings he aroused in her, she recognized how dangerous and inappropriate it would be for them to have anything resembling a relationship.

She locked her hands in her lap and resolved to simply ignore the problem. Perhaps if he didn't receive any encouragement from her she could prevent him from making any overt gestures that couldn't be taken back. And if she couldn't, well… she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. While she was contemplating, she did not notice the tunnel they were heading into until they were swallowed by darkness. Frowning, she looked around in confusion.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked expectantly.

"Huh?" came his voice from beside her. He sounded just the slightest bit distracted. "What? Oh! Turn on the lights!"

Instantly the long tunnel was filled with dim multicolored light streaming from randomly-placed domed fixtures on the walls and ceiling. It was more than enough to fully illuminate the first unexpected dip in the chocolate river. Lauren didn't scream; she was a Derringer and she had a reputation to uphold. Instead her hands flew to the front of the bench, grasping the edge in a death grip. The roller coaster-like ride continued for what felt like half an hour, though it was probably no more than five minutes. Every few seconds she felt like she was about to fall out, but neither Charlie nor Willy seemed the slightest bit concerned, though the latter did look unusually tense. They watched the sides of the wall rush by with no signs of discomfort at the sudden shifts in current and direction.

Eventually they slowed, passing the rooms Charlie had described before: whipped cream, coffee cream, and even the purported-but-not-quite-believed hair cream. Lauren had almost caught her breath, only to lose it again when a warm hand brushed ever so slightly against hers. It was almost too light to be called a caress, but she couldn't think of another word for it. Glancing almost fearfully at the man on her right, she found he wasn't even looking at her. For a moment she thought it had been an unconscious action, until she saw him dart a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eyes. She looked down to where his hand rested next to hers on the side of the seat, their pinkies parallel and a hair's breadth apart.

Charlie launched into an amusing story about the whipped cream and a poached egg, but Lauren paid little attention. Her vision was tunneled on the purple-gloved hand next to her own. A very un-Derringerish emotion was washing over her, almost like a yearning but not quite, because a Derringer did not yearn for anything. A Derringer was stronger than that. It was very much the Zeigler portion of her that longed to inch just the slightest bit closer to the man, to give him a little smile and an encouraging look. The reasons for not promoting this course were many and the rewards it offered were few. In fact, she couldn't think of a single one beyond her personal gratification. Of course, that was normally reason enough, but not when something as important as Derringer Chocolates was at stake…

She glanced at Willy again, biting her lip. There must be a way to reconcile the urge to get closer to him with the urge to protect her material assets, but she couldn't think of a single idea. Caught in up in a rare indecisive moment, Lauren simply stayed where she was, preferring to do nothing rather than make a wrong move. What she failed to consider, at least consciously, was that by not moving her hand, consent could be assumed with frightening ease… not that a Derringer would ever admit to fooling herself.

* * *

The boat ride continued, rendered a little less disturbing because they were merely traveling at unsafe speeds now rather than violently unsafe speeds. Certain she had left crescent-shaped fingernail imprints on the underside of the bench, she shot the Oompa Loompas a reproachful look as she climbed out. A few ducked their heads, but the rest only looked meaningfully at Willy. Lauren was beginning to think the man wasn't as unversed in the ways of the world as his general attitude professed.

They approached the large round door and Willy pointed at the glowing sign above the frame: Luminous Lollies. "They're for eating in bed at night," he said excitedly, pushing a near-by button. "You can even read by their light!" The huge door creaked open and they all stepped through.

The room was large, as all the rooms in Willy's factory were, but this one was not lit up like most of the others. It was dark, the ceiling studded with small pinpricks of light so as to resemble the night sky. It was the perfect backdrop for another of Willy's orchards, this one comprised of spindly-like trees most closely resembling pine. The sweet scent of sugar filled the air and a myriad of other, lesser scents as well. She couldn't place them, for they blended together until the smell was unrecognizable, but she suspected they were the individual flavors of each lollipop. For of course, it was lollipops that hung from the pine trees, rather than pine cones. They shone with an inner luminescence that did not seemed to be generated by anything mechanical. The lights winked on and off, like fireflies, creating a charming picture against the darkness.

Lauren walked down the first row, trailing her escorts behind her. A soft smile was on her face and the worries on the boat seemed suddenly very far away. Perhaps it was the familiar scent, which often filled the factory as Lauren worked? It was only natural that she be comforted by the reminder of home, but she felt it was more than that. Lauren narrowed her eyes, trying to think around the almost narcotic effects of the smell.

She saw Charlie wander off towards the center of the room, disappearing into the darkness. Another time she might have worried about his getting lost in the huge place, but at the moment she was removed from her troubles. She turned to Willy, who was staring at her with a strangely calculating look on his face. "So, why haven't you marketed these yet?" she asked, gesturing at the beauty around them.

Looking startled, Willy reached out and plucked a lollipop, careful to keep it away from his nose. He held it out to Lauren, who accepted it with a smile. "Well, the taste is fine, but the smell of the chemicals that make the light can have unusual effects on people."

"Really?" Lauren asked, giving the oval-shaped lollipop and experimental lick. Flavor exploded on her tongue and she smiled. "I think they're perfect." She gave him a coy look which might have been a bit too much for another female to pull off but worked perfectly for a Derringer.

Warily, Willy smiled back, looking more than a little uncertain. He gave a nervous laugh and stepped closer to a nearby tree, breathing in deeply the scent of the lollipops. Lauren popped the lollipop into her mouth, taking in the picturesque scene. She more felt than saw Willy approach her from behind. He said nothing and did not disturb her, but he was as close to her as it was possible to get without actually touching her. His hands rose behind hers, mimicking her stance so that his arms partially encircled her, but still not so much as his cuff brushed against her. If any other person had tried it, it would have been intrusive and odd. For Willy, this was as close to physical affection that he could get. Lauren had a the firm notion that she should be scared right now, afraid for her company and of her own feelings, but she was having a peculiar difficulty thinking beyond the moment.

"Willy?" Lauren asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Willy's own voice was not made for whispering. He almost squeaked, but cleared his throat and recovered. "Yeah?" he asked in a more normal tone… normal for Willy at least.

Lauren realized she didn't know precisely what she wanted to ask. There were any number of questions swimming languidly through her head, but they all seemed inadequate or far too exhausting to put into words. She needed something simple, but that would convey her present mental disorder. "What are we doing?"

Willy didn't give an immediate answer, for which Lauren was grateful. If he had, she would have been worried that either he hadn't considered the question fully or that he had meditated long and hard on it at some time in the past. She wasn't sure which she would have found more disconcerting, the idea that he cared so little for the repercussions of whatever they were thinking of or the idea that he had considered them and still felt it worth pursuing.

He finally spoke, sounding almost as confused as she felt inside. "I don't know." It was disturbing how well those three words summarized recent events.

* * *

**My Betas are to be commended, so thank them in your reviews. Remember, an artist thirves on feedback.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**Many thanks to my Betas, whose constant reassurances were what made this chapter possible. The only thing I own, besides Lauren,are the mistakes... **

By the time Charlie returned, Lauren and Willy had made their way back to the door. The trio boarded the boat again and were quickly swept along by the rowers and the fast-moving current. The breeze rushing past her cleared her mind of the candy-induced fog, leaving her annoyed and apprehensive. She would have blamed Willy for it, if he hadn't been under the intoxicating influence of the Luminous Lollies himself. As it was, she couldn't decide if he had deliberately brought her there in the hopes of lowering her guard or if he had merely wanted her to enjoy the room.

As they sailed on towards the next room, she did note that Willy seemed much more relaxed than previously. He still sat up straight, but the sense of coiled tension was gone, replaced by the easy confidence he usually reserved for his candy-making schemes. His hand was beside hers again, nearly touching but not quite, but the rest of him seemed closer than he had been before. Determined to ignore his advances, Lauren concentrated on sifting through the events in the Lollipop orchard, trying to see if she had betrayed too much to step back without hurt feelings. Unfortunately, she was not able to reach a satisfactory conclusion before they arrived at the next room.

"Exploding sweets?" she questioned, reading the room's label off. She glanced at Charlie. "Are those the ones we saw earlier, in the elevator?" She vividly remembered the sudden bombardment of firecracker-like explosions all around them as they traveled through the cavernous center of the factory. She had been thankful that the Oompa Loompas were such good shots, because if they had been hit the candy probably would have shattered the elevator into a million pieces and cut them to ribbons as well. Unbidden, a sense of déjà vu washed over her, but she ignored it in favor of listening to Charlie's response.

Charlie shook his head. "No. Those were meant to explode on impact, these are the ones Mr. Wonka invented for enemies." He hopped out of the boat as he spoke, scrambling to open the door and leaving Lauren dependent on Willy's arm to escape the confines of the ship. Acceding with bad grace, Lauren allowed herself to be helped out, but relinquished his arm the moment she was on solid ground. She noticed the faint expression of distaste on his face with both hope and a little, quickly-suppressed, niggling feeling of disappointment.

"Well, that's something," she muttered, entering the room where the Exploding Sweets were being mass-produced. Naturally a brief demonstration was given, in which an Oompa Loompa popped an Exploding Sweet into his mouth, chewed for a moment, and then was flung to the ground as it imploded. Steam began pouring from his mouth and nose, but he stood to show that he was relatively unharmed. Charlie predicted they would be great successes. Clearly he already had plans for the sweets, no doubt involving the schoolyard bully. Willy and Charlie then had an impromptu conference with a few of the Oompa Loompas in charge, leaving Lauren free to explore the room for a moment. She walked away as Willy was explaining that, additionally, Exploding Sweets had a calming effect on most animals and were remarkably good at clearing up the sinuses.

As she wandered, she examined the process by which the sweets were made. She didn't understand exactly what they were using, but the machines were mostly familiar, if modified from the standard form. Actually, the most interesting thing she saw in the room was an Oompa Loompa running about covered with Sizzling Solution. As others doused him with water, she spotted a small mural on one of the walls. Stepping closer, she examined the squiggly lines which randomly flew off a large round red spot in the center. Compelled by some kind of strange cousin of curiosity, she reached out and gently tapped the painted button. Four things happened at once.

She discovered that the button had most definitely not been painted, as it depressed slightly. Alarms began to sound and everyone began looking about curiously. Lauren gave a peculiar squeak, drawing attention to herself. And finally, the floor beneath her feet disappeared.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was pain, which was perhaps not so surprising, considering the first thing she remembered was falling through a hole in the Exploding Sweets room and hitting her head against something hard and unyielding. She was debating whether or not to open her eyes when the white noise in the background became suddenly recognizable. She was on her feet in an instant. Sixty beady black eyes were focused on her as the sound of walnuts hitting plastic washed over her senses. It was the scariest sound she had ever heard in her life.

Her eyes darted to the exit, across the room and probably as out of reach as the Hubble Telescope. Did she dare make a run for it and possibly incite them? She debated quickly, pros and cons running through her head like fizzy-lifting drinks. The squirrels were already looking at her, she couldn't outrun them or fight them off. That left one option: surrender gracefully. With complete solemnity she raised her hands into the air and sank down to her knees. The squirrels looked at each other, chittering softly with what sounded like astonishment. Sweat broke out on Lauren's forehead as a single squirrel hopped off his stool and approached cautiously. Still, it seemed to be a good sign that they hadn't all mobbed her at once, not that it would matter if the squirrel tested her and found her wanting.

She allowed her gaze to flick past the squirrel, towards the dark hole in the middle of the blue swirled room. She had no doubt that if she were to be cast down there today, there would be no convenient breaking of the incinerator to save her. Lauren fought the urge to close her eyes, determined to face this test as a Derringer would, fearlessly and with her head high.

The squirrel climbed up her knee, scrabbling a bit with the fabric as he hauled himself up onto her shoulder. Without hesitation he propped himself up on his hind legs and struck her sharply on the forehead three times. Lauren winced, but did not move as the animal pressed his head against hers, listening closely. There was a long silence, then he struck her twice more, listening again. Finally, with much chittering and chirping, he jumped off her shoulder to take his vacated position in the shelling line.

For a full minute Lauren sat and stared in disbelief. She might have stayed there even longer, distracted by her own shaky thoughts, but a loud noise interrupted her contemplation of her own mortality. The door was flung open and Willy blew into the room, Charlie on his heels. Their eyes locked and she saw incredulity in them, followed again by that slow, calculating look that had so intrigued her in the Lollipop orchard. Her whirling thoughts calmed as her personality reasserted itself. Yes, she'd just had a dreadful shock, but she would shake it off. That's what a Derringer did.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked very slowly towards the stairs, skirting the pit that led to the furnace. She ascended the steps with calm dignity that was completely feigned and stopped at the railing, looking at Willy expectantly. Lauren noticed that, without even glancing at the key ring, Willy managed to pull the correct key on the first try and opened the lock. He politely swung the gate open, holding it for her as she passed. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, a strange recklessness coming over her as the excess adrenaline in her system spurred her to action. As she stepped past him she allowed her hand to trail ever so gently over his as it rested on the small door. She felt him jump, but did not look away from his face as a blush suffused it. Satisfied in a purely feminine way with her efforts, and already berating herself for exacerbating the situation, Lauren turned to Charlie. In the way of children everywhere, he had noticed nothing amiss; she gestured for him to lead the way out.

When they had securely closed the door of the Nut Room, Charlie let his questions burst forth. "Lauren, what happened? Did they attack you? How did you fight them off?"

"I think I was too uninteresting for them to bother with," she said evasively, refusing to meet Willy's contemplative stare. She felt almost jittery with repressed energy and had to exert effort to appear composed.

"Oh, I don't think that's the case," Willy said, a small smile on his face. Of course, small for Willy Wonka was a frighteningly brilliant grin for most people. His excessively straight teeth flashed alarmingly and Lauren resisted the urge to take a step backwards.

"Or maybe they smelled the Exploding Sweets on me," she suggested. "They do have a calming effect on most animals."

Looking a little annoyed at having his words quoted at him, Willy spoke again, his eyes shifty and his tone more than slightly obvious. "So, I suppose you'll want to be taken back to the house then…" he trailed off, meeting her gaze with such hope that she sighed.

"Not at all, I'm really very anxious to see the rest of the factory," she said unenthusiastically. Both of her companions brightened considerably, apparently forgetting her recent potential-concussion in the overwhelming urge to show off.

"Let's show her the Round Room!" Charlie suggested, taking off down the corridor at a run. Willy eagerly broke into his own sprint, leaving Lauren to either race to catch up or be left behind in the labyrinth of a factory to await some other dangerous calamity. Really, it was no choice at all.

Tracking Willy and Charlie down the twisting halls was easier than she had anticipated. For one thing, they were making an awful lot of noise, jumping about and whooping for no apparent reason. For another, they left a trail of devastation in their wake in the form of dazed Oompa Loompas staring back over their shoulders in the direction the pair had gallivanted off in. She had expected to end up at another door, but the last turn led her to a dock in the chocolate river again. Willy and Charlie were already on the boat, waiting impatiently for her.

"Lauren, hurry up," Charlie cried as she took her own time getting in.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I am much too un-athletic to be always dashing about after the two of you."

"If you're un-athletic, why do you exercise in our room every day?" Charlie asked logically as the boat pulled away from the dock.

'Our' room? She tried not to read anything into his slip, not wanting to let the future consequences of her actions interfere with her 'enjoyment' of the tour. "That's necessary exercise, which I tolerate only because I would balloon up like Violet Beauregarde if I didn't. That's one of the hazards of living in a Chocolate Factory, which I accept only because I love my family soooo much." She said this last with a grin, knowing Charlie was aware how much she liked living in edible surroundings.

"I don't think anyone could really get as large as Violet without help from one of Mr. Wonka's inventions," Charlie said staunchly. "She was huge."

"Obviously you haven't seen me on a fat day," Lauren replied.

Perhaps realizing that there was no way for him to win this argument, or maybe just distracted by the scenery, Charlie changed the subject abruptly. "Look there, through that window!"

Lauren looked where he was pointing and sure enough there was a large window set into the wall of the tunnel. Inside she could just make out a mountain-like heap of ice cream. It must have been made up of all different flavors because it was all the colors of the rainbow. She wondered if there was enough whipped cream in the world to top that thing off. Being a predominately practical person, she had a bit of trouble imagining a use for that big a heap of ice cream. She reminded herself that this was Wonka's factory and thus there didn't have to be a use for everything in it. "Probably he just wanted to see how much ice cream he could stack up on one place," she thought fondly, then immediately grew disgusted with herself for finding the wastrel endearing.

"Stop the boat!" Willy called, and suddenly he was clamoring out without waiting for anyone. Charlie looked just as eager, trying to usher his cousin towards the door with all possible speed.

"What the-," Lauren began, but was too busy trying not to trip to complete the sentence. She was pushed up to the door and encouraged to look through the small window. Inside were rows upon rows of small, obsessively cubed candies. The edges were sharp and well-defined and they were clearly and unmistakably square. "This is the round room?"

"Yes, this is where we store the square candies that look round," Willy said proudly, gazing with love on his little creations. She almost missed when his eyes slid over to glance at her again, his face slightly expectant.

Lauren raised an eyebrow but decided to oblige him. With the air of a particularly bad actress who had never heard of the concept of 'illusion of the first time,' she spoke, "They don't look round; they look square."

Charlie grinned and Willy's expression turned arrogant. "Nonsense. How could anything look square?"

With a sigh, Lauren pushed the door open and immediately all of the little candies turned around to peer at her with sightless little sugar-painted eyes. The square candies did indeed look 'round. "Homonyms are the devil's work," Lauren muttered, slightly disturbed by the millions of tiny eyes turned towards her. They almost seemed to be following her about the room. Willy and Charlie strolled down the rows, impervious to the beady little gazes that turned to trace their movements. Disturbed and annoyed at herself for letting mere candy affect her in such a way, Lauren suggested they move on. Obediently, Charlie and Wonka headed off for the dock, the lone female straggling behind and wondering just what the rest of the day held in store for her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**You are another chapter richer,finally.All thanks go to my Betas.**

"I'm getting hungry," Charlie piped, looking to Willy for some reason. Lauren couldn't have been happier. Frankly, she was looking forward to being back in the Bucket house. Willy's presence was distracting and she couldn't help but notice that she was finding his bizarre comments more engaging than irritating as the day wore on. This did not bode well at all and hopefully having other people around would distract her from her thoughts about her and Willy's nonexistent future.

Her hopes were dashed when Willy nodded as though he had expected this. "We are all eating lunch in my private dining room tonight," he proclaimed with air of a king bestowing a great favor on an unworthy peon.

"You have a dining room?" Charlie asked, obviously startled and curious.

"Why of course I do my boy," Willy said, exactly as if this question were the most superfluous one he had ever heard in his life. "Where else would I eat?"

"I never really thought about it," Charlie admitted. "You usually eat with us, except recently you've been staying away." The small boy glanced at Lauren, but did not comment. "I suppose I knew you must eat somewhere else, but I hadn't thought about where."

As it turned out, Willy's dining room was actually fairly, at least, comparatively, normal. There were chairs and a table made out of wood and the usual cutlery and such. There was a chandelier and even a rug on the floor. Or rather, the ceiling, for the entire room was upside down. Lauren wanted to ask how he had managed to get such heavy furniture to stick to the ceiling, but was afraid of the answer. If he had said he was using Bong Bong sap, or some other such nonsense, she wasn't sure she could have made herself sit down near the chandelier with the others for fear the oaken dining table would come crashing down at the least opportune time.

Dinner passed with surprising ease. The conversation was light, the food was excellent, and no one discussed business. It was just as well, really, because Lauren would have been tempted to jump in with a suggestion or two, which definitely wouldn't have been conductive to maintaining her cover. When the meal was done and everyone had been offered dessert, which Lauren declined, it was onward to the Great Glass Elevator.

They spent a very unproductive three hours flitting about, this way and that, trying to find the Oompa Loompa village, which Wonka insisted had been rebuilt by his workers somewhere deep in the bowels of the huge factory. He freely admitted he had never been there and had very little proof that it actually existed. Supposedly it was nearly impossible to enter without an invitation or a guide, however he had been told by numerous Oompa Loompans that it was built in the warmest part of the heating system. Unfortunately this did not really narrow it down, as the immense heating system sprawled almost the entire way through the place. Lauren had to admit though, that it did pass the time. As they kept their noses pressed to the glass in hopes of spotting the distinctive spherical houses the Oompa Loompas built, Willy told them Loompan legends that he had personally translated in earlier years.

At three thirty exactly Lauren was dropped off in the chocolate room. Pleading exhaustion, she escaped to Charlie's room and took a nap. Her dreams were filled with squirrels who told her she was violating zoning restrictions and that she'd have to give up on this idea of expanding her Oompa Loompa village. Bemused and sleepy-eyed, she emerged from her cocoon of blankets at the bequest of Aunt Emma some forty-five minutes later.

"Lauren!" Emma yelled up the stairs. "Here are your letters. One of them is from America, so you might want to read it soon." Aunt Emma had noticed the surprising lack of correspondence from the U.S. for Lauren, but hadn't wanted to comment for fear of offending anyone. For a letter to arrive now, apparently unsolicited, might signify something wrong at home.

"Coming!" Lauren said, straightening skewed glasses and smoothing back her hair. She took the letters, waving hello to the grandparents where they were sitting in their bed. Grabbing a container of juice from the fridge, she poured herself a glass. Taking a long sip she examined the first letter with interest. As she was about to crack it open, she noticed Aunt Emma standing a few feet away and all of the grandparents looking at her with obvious curiosity. Lauren fidgeted. "So, I'm just gonna go read these outside then, where I can eat some swudge."

Emma nodded, as though she hadn't really be interested, and Grandpa Joe, Grandma Georgina, and Grandma Josephine all began their earlier pursuits. Grandpa George only winked at her before returning to his book. Lauren ducked out the door and made her way over the nearest hill. In the background, the Oompa Loompas were singing happily as they harvested candy from the room, grooming it carefully. She settled down on the grass, leaning against a soft tree trunk, and ripped open the first letter:

Miss Zeigler,

This notice is to inform you that your specialty packages are available to you at our offices on 128 Willoughby Street. As specified they are pre-wrapped and you are entitled to a three month warranty. Please note our return policy towards gifts and thank you for choosing Binder and Schmucks.

Sincerely,  
Alfred P. Curchwick Representative

Lauren nodded thoughtfully, wondering when she would have a chance to pick up those packages. They were, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's presents, chosen with care from the many specialty items in the back of the catalog. It had been particularly hard to shop for Mr. Bucket, but she rather thought she had gotten them both something that they'd like.

The second letter required more thought, for it was from the address she had given to her secretary. It was only common sense to have someone capable of contacting her, should anything extremely pressing come up. As Lauren hardly thought anyone on her board was prepared to attempt a hostile takeover, she could only assume this was market related. Ripping it open she set about deciphering the message amongst the code.

Dear Lauren,

How are things going in England? Are you getting along with the family? It must be nice getting to know them and all. Everything here is business as usual. The town's kind of limp, but you already predicted that. It's more that the usual summer slump, with all the kids out of town on vacation, but I'm not too worried. I'm sure I'll find something to occupy my time until you come back. Maybe I'll pick a fight with your old friend, Pricilla Franklin. She's been saying some nasty stuff behind your back, by the way. If I were you, I'd show her who's boss. I'm looking forward to your safe return (those British airways are dangerous, I hear!). See you soon!

Lotsa love,  
Sarah

P.S. I know you said I shouldn't bother writing since you'll only be gone a month, but hey, I'm bored. I thought you might appreciate a friendly hello. Love, S.

Placing the letter back in its envelope she contemplated. Sarah Tewilliger was her very capable secretary, a woman of immense skill and even more immense mouth. She talked all day, well into the night, and probably in her sleep as well. Lauren found the background noise soothing and was easily able to tune the woman out when necessary. The fact that others found her annoying was a plus. It meant they wouldn't bother trying to steal or corrupt her, not an unheard of scheme in big business. Surprisingly, Sarah was one of the most trustworthy women Lauren could think off. Despite her propensity for chatter, she never spoke of anything she wasn't supposed to. She also had pretty good instincts, a product of working in close quarters with the 'predators in suits,' as she so aptly called Lauren and her fellows. Thus, Lauren knew she could be counted upon to accurately judge the mood of the board.

From the tone of the letter, nothing unpredictable was happening at Derringer Incorporated. This fact alone made her uneasy. Pricilla was rattling her chain, speaking out against the espionage plan, probably, but wasn't confident enough to tell anyone outside of the board. She was safe there. The financial slump she had predicted was bad, but again, no worse than she had predicted. They had enough saved to continue to meet production costs for a good while. Confirmation was nice, so she would remember to thank Sarah when she saw her next. She actually felt a lot better. In fact, she was feeling very relaxed indeed.

Feeling her eyelids grow heavy, Lauren stretched out under the tree she had been leaning against and closed her eyes for a moment. The sounds of the swudge rustling and a radio off in the distance slowly faded into comforting darkness and Lauren slept.

* * *

Willy was happily ahead of schedule as he marched purposefully towards the Bucket home. An absent smile on his face, he contemplated the scene he would find at dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket would be talking quietly in the corner, the Grandparents would be knitting or reading on the bed, Charlie would be scribbling in his 'Ideas' notebook, and Lauren would be playing cats cradle in the worn chair by the door. She would be looking intently at the string, trying to get her fingers to obey her commands. Her brow would be furrowed a bit, in concentration. She'd probably mess it up at least once, leaving the string tangled, which would cause her to frown horribly. Her expression would look stern and forbidding, and entirely adult. A warm feeling fluttered in his stomach.

He was jolted out of his pleasant thoughts by a foot jutting out from underneath a tree and into his path. A very familiar tennis shoe evoked a nervousness that was practically expected by now. He ducked underneath the low-hanging branches and peered at her. She was asleep, two letters laying beside, tucked into envelopes. He wondered if it was his lot in life to continuously be faced with the difficulty of awakening Lauren Zeigler. With trepidation he reached out and nudged her foot with one shoe. Her eyes opened and she blinked at him blearily. "Willy?"

"Hi," he said eloquently. "You were asleep."

"I was," Lauren agreed. She patted the ground next to her, gesturing for him to have a seat. "The tour wore me out," she added, yawning hugely.

"Sorry," Willy said unrepentantly. He sat down next to her, but not too close.

"Liar," she said, swatting at him. He caught her wrist before she could strike his shoulder and paused, staring at her hand. Why was it that sometimes he could think of nothing he wanted more than to be close to her, while at other times the idea of so much as touching her smallest finger gave him the horrors? It was a mystery and discovering he was a mystery to himself was about as un-comforting an idea as any he could think of.

She seemed to understand his confusion, because she didn't try to move at all. He would have been hurt if she'd pulled away and scared senseless if she had moved forward. Finally he uncurled his fingers and released her hand. An Idea blazed across his mind, which was actually a pretty normal occurrence for him. Most of his brilliant Ideas for candy appeared in this fashion.

"Do you want to try something?" he asked hopefully.

She looked wary. "What?"

"It's sort of like touching, but not." Now she really looked suspicious. "We don't have to," he said hastily, wishing he hadn't suggested it.

"No," Lauren said unexpectedly, a strange expression on her face. "Let's try."

He took a deep breath before reaching over and removing her glasses. Carefully folding them, he leaned over her, bracing his hands over her shoulders. Dipping his head delicately he held his face a whisper from hers. She stayed very still and Willy chose to see that as encouragement. He moved his lips over her face slowly, careful not to actually touch her. Every time he blinked he felt his eyelashes brush gently against her. He felt her respiration increase even as his own became even and relaxed. Finally he pulled back from her and, holding himself upright with one arm, pressed his lips to his two fingers. Reaching out, he touched them in turn to her own.

Lauren inhaled sharply and for a moment he thought he had done something wrong. Then she smiled at him, a surprised and pretty little upturning of the corners of her mouth. Pleased with himself, Willy moved away from her and returned to his original seat. Lauren stayed where she was.

"That was nice," she said finally.

"Yeah." Willy broke out into a sweat. "I have to go." He stood up abruptly, leaving in the direction of the exit rather than the Bucket house. He had fifteen minutes until it was dinner time, hopefully it would be enough for him to recover the ability to breathe normally again.

* * *

As of right now I have no idea what Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's presents are going to be. Suggestions? 


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_I know it's been forever. Please forgive the lapse, but writer's block is a hard thing to overcome. Don't think I've forgotten this story. I have the ending mapped out. I have certain key scenes already written. It's the in-between stuff that's giving me a hard time. I'll finish it. Just give me time. This has not been beta read, so all mistakes are mine._

The next day found Lauren in front of the bathroom mirror, contemplating her half-naked form. Lauren went by a very strict grading scale for women, herself included. There were six levels, because five was too prosaic and she couldn't think of seven. She felt each level defined a certain body state perfectly, and so far her system had served her well. They were as follows:

1.) Should be modeling for Victoria's Secret

2.) Able to get out of speeding tickets

3.) Wouldn't be embarrassed in a bathing suit

4.) Need to get out the stair master

5.) Could win Kirstie Alley look-alike contest

6.) Should be wearing a tarp, even in the shower

Currently she was a three, though dressed up properly she rated a two easily. Now though, she need to evaluate herself in more specific terms. She examined her face critically. She supposed there was something there to attract Willy, though she looked a little too fresh and innocent for her taste. After living with bubble-gum flavored and colored lip gloss for so many weeks, she was craving something dark and deep… preferably red. She also wanted her smoky eye shadow back. She missed the way it had made her look, mysterious and a not a little dangerous. Would Willy still like her if she looked like a Derringer? She frowned and pushed the thought from her head. It was immaterial whether he would like her or not because she was who she was. She had to stop thinking of herself as two people. There was a name for a person like that, and though insanity was becoming more socially acceptable these days, that didn't mean she wanted the term applied to her.

Besides, she was trying not to think about Derringer's right now, because if she did, she would have to acknowledge that she had completely and utterly betrayed her principles. She had sworn up and down that she wouldn't let this bizarre attraction gain any hold on her. She had promised herself not to get close to Willy or let him get close to her. Now she was actively seeking him out and enjoying herself when she found him. She was endangering the mission, she was risking hurting Willy, and worse, she was endangering herself as well. And yet she couldn't bring herself to stop.

If this was love, and she still didn't believe it could be any such thing, it was definitely as inconvenient as it had always sounded to her. Her eyes fell to her hair, now a short and unpretentious brown. It wasn't striking, but it definitely wasn't unattractive. Of course, blonde had suited her better… Heaving a sigh of annoyance she gave up on the mirror and pulled on her jeans. A pink striped button-up shirt followed, short sleeved, of course. Stepping into her sandals and hooking a pair of earrings into her lobes, she headed out of the slightly muggy bathroom.

"All yours," she told the impatiently waiting Charlie. Growling with less than his usual good grace, her pajama-clad 'cousin' stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. With a shrug, Lauren headed to breakfast. There was nothing in particular to do today, which made it an excellent time to go into town. She had packages to pick up, after all.

It took her precisely ten minutes to reach the door of the nearest branch of Binder and Schmucks. She pushed it open and waited patiently until there was a salesperson free. After an exchange of information and the flash of a receipt, Lauren was the proud owner of two wrapped parcels. She tucked the small one in her satchel and hefted the larger one under her arm before waving a happy goodbye to the helpful associate. In fact, she was so pleased at getting the last of her packages out that she treated herself to a meat pie before returning to the factory. Licking the last of the gravy from her fingers, she stood up fifteen minutes later and once more headed towards the place she didn't want to refer to as home.

"Lauren, would you mind helping with the dishes?" was the first thing out of Mrs. Bucket's mouth when her niece tumbled through the door at an ungainly angle. "I have to finish shaping the bread."

"Sure, just let me drop these off somewhere where they won't get stepped on," Lauren replied, glancing about the room. Finally she just pushed the boxes under the bed, at a loss as to where they would incur the least damage. As soon as Uncle James got home, they'd be able to open them anyway. With mournful resignation, Lauren then fell upon the dishes as she thought longingly of the dishwasher at her apartment. Eventually that task, too, was completed, leaving Lauren with plenty of free time to contemplate her chipped nail polish and pruney fingers. "Aunt Emma, is it time for Charlie to be home yet?" she asked, trying to think of something to do.

"Give him another hour, dear. He said he and Mr. Wonka were going to be attempting some new kind of cream filling. When they try new things he's always home later for lunch." She deftly molded the top of the loaves before covering them with a cloth to finish rising. "Bored?"

"Just a little," Lauren admitted. "Where are The Grandparents?"

"Out for a walk, I believe. They're probably thoroughly lost by now," Emma predicted. At Lauren's worried look she laughed. "The Oompa Loompas will take pity on them eventually and bring them back. No need to look so concerned." With those prophetic words, Mrs. Bucket returned to her domestic tasks, leaving Lauren to filch Charlie's barely-used Gameboy and retreat to the outdoors.

It was only when Charlie interrupted to inform her that lunch was ready did Lauren realized how long she had been trying to beat the high score. She was seeing little blocks in her mind, fitting themselves around random objects in her view. That was definitely the last time she broke her self-imposed rule of never playing Tetris for more than a half hour straight.

Lunch was a muted affair. Charlie was distracted by work, Willy was still in the Inventing Room, the Grandparents hadn't made it home yet, and Lauren was still trying to clear her vision of tiny multicolored squares. Besides, she had recently had a delicious snack in town and wasn't all that hungry to begin with. She escaped early, leaving Charlie staring mournfully at the sink full of dirty plates. She went back to her tree, plucking sweets as she pleased along the path. When she settled down again, this time with her notebook, it was to do some major thinking. She had been putting it off and it was high time she faced the music. She flipped to an empty page and began to make a list.

Reasons to Do It. She nodded, best to keep this vague, the better to conceal her true identity from the casual browser. Lauren paused thoughtfully and then quickly jotted down. "He's unlike anyone I've ever met. He makes me happy. He looks cute in purple and red." She paused again. "He makes me laugh."

Flipping to the next page she added the heading: Reasons Not to Even Think of It. "Could jeopardize the entire home situation. Would make returning difficult. Would invite additional questions. Could hurt Charlie and Willy's relationship, should it not work out." She paged back and added under the first heading "because I want to." She didn't think she would find a better reason to try. As a person who had become accustomed to getting her way, it was a compelling point. The only question was, did the benefits outweigh the risks?

She pondered deeply. Could she be happy living here, with Willy and the Buckets, for the rest of her life? She gave that a hesitant 'maybe.' Certainly not unless she found some way to occupy herself. For a moment Lauren found herself wondering if Willy would ever allow her to work for him in some kind of executive capacity, then she berated herself for even considering it. She already had an executive position, the highest one available, in point of fact, at her own factory. Slamming the book shut, she frowned horribly. She couldn't give up everything she had built in America for some random, fabulously wealthy, unusually interesting, incredibly attractive…. Losing her train of thought, Lauren began to contemplate Willy's beautifully shaped lips.

It was several minutes later that she recalled she had been trying to come to a decision. Pros and cons were clearly pointing towards not allowing things with Willy to further heat up, all except that last pro; though to Lauren's way of thinking, wanting to do a variety of unladylike things to the resident chocolatier was definitely a con. If she could only leave immediately, things would be so much simpler, but to arouse even the hint of interest in her return could be devastating. Suppose they got curious, or worried, enough to begin looking into her background again. They might ask to visit her, or even accompany her back to America. Unlikely, yes, but not impossible with Willy's wealth backing them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren saw Charlie approaching. Her inner monologue would have to be tabled for now, but even as the Ziegler persona stole over Lauren, the Derringer side smiled grimly and promised to see the both of them again very soon. The hard choice hadn't yet been made.

* * *

Days passed. Mrs. Bucket took every opportunity to wear her beautiful new coat, a whimsical red and cream-colored design masterpiece. Mr. Bucket seemed to go everywhere but to work with his new portable CD player and Beatles Hits collection. Lauren was proud of bringing the 21st century to her supposed relatives, but sometimes the contrast with their surrounding was downright startling. They really should think of having the place fixed up a bit. It was too bad they had such sentimental attachment to the creaky old thing. 

Lauren slapped down that un-Ziegler-like thought and pasted a smile on her face as she walked back towards the familiar willow tree. She was working on her needlepoint, which was coming along better than she'd thought it would, and it was making her grumpy. The squinting to see the stitches, the neck-aches, and the pricked fingers were all making her irritable. Were she to be completely honest, though, she'd admit that she'd awoken cranky anyway and the reason was obvious. Willy hadn't stopped by to see her for four days.

She could understand if he was busy, but really, would it completely ruin his schedule to take five minutes just to say hello? Lauren was annoyed that she missed him and annoyed at herself for being irritated, because his staying away was really the best thing for her. Thus it was, perhaps, understandable that when the prodigal confectioner finally turned up, around four that afternoon, she was just the slightest bit tetchy. A Derringer in a tetchy mood was unpredictable and certainly not something that anyone of Willy's temperament could be expected to deal with.

"Good morning, Lauren," Willy said obliviously. He sat down beside her, flashing a brittle thousand-watt smile.

"It's afternoon," she commented, careful not to make the stitch she was sewing too large.

Willy gave a nervous laugh, his instincts no doubt screaming at him that something was dreadfully wrong. "Yes, well, I kind of lost track of time, what with all the inventing I've been doing…"

"Really?" Lauren said, her voice neither interested nor dismissive.

"Uh-huh."

Repressing a victorious smirk, Lauren deadpanned. "So you've been in the Inventing Room for the last four days?"

"Yeah!"

"Except for yesterday afternoon when you and Charlie watched the 17-hour Starsky and Hutch marathon in the TV room," she interjected, almost pleasantly.

"Right, except for that…" His eyes shifted to the corner to peek at her guiltily. The silence stretched out, coating the room like that horrible, fake-cherry tasting cough syrup. Finally Lauren pricked her finger, threw down both needlepoint and thimble, grimced, and broke the spell.

"Willy, I really wish you would just tell me what's wrong," but her eyes were more demanding than pleading. "I can't read your mind and avoiding me isn't going to solve anything. You know, I'm only here until the end of the month." Willy nodded, looking like a chastened schoolboy, but he didn't speak. Lauren sighed in vexation. "I'm guessing it's because of the last time we were under this tree…" Willy blushed and avoided her direct stare. "And I'm assuming that you are either afraid of it happening again or disgusted at its having happened at all."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, then leapt away to focus on the landscape behind her head. His blush deepened. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then made a kind of croaking sound. Finally he managed to get the words out. "It was…. a little…. overwhelming."

"I see," said Lauren. She didn't, really, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Besides, she knew that later, after she had calmed down and reminded herself that everyone had hang-ups that interfered with their life, she would accept his neurosis with more grace. In fact, if she had had time to go back to Charlie's room and think about all of this a bit more, she might not have instigated the incident which would set Derringer-Wonka relations back months.

"I still liked it," he was hastening to assure her. "I just-" He couldn't seem to find the words to finish the sentence. Another pause expanded between them, filling up all available space. Little known fact, silence is a fluid and conforms to the shape of its container. Willy's brow commenced furrowing in search of a better phrase than 'can't seem to be near you without wanting to throw up.'

"Willy," Lauren said, her voice soft and low. At her tone, he flinched slightly, then shivered. She watched as his hands started to shake. Leaning over towards him, she smiled as he inched backwards away from her. The thrill of the chase filled her with adrenaline and her previous pique only compounded the sudden rush of desire. Moving swiftly, she cornered him against the tree trunk, and bringing her face close to the side of his, blew gently onto his ear. He shivered again, clenching at the swudge-grass with both hands. Lauren moved one finger over to trace swirls and patterns over the top of his hand, distracting him from her next move. Now, instead of blowing gently, she was breathing directly onto his skin. He inhaled sharply, turning his head almost reflexively and bumping noses with Lauren in the process. Their lips barely skimmed as Lauren threw herself backwards, startled by his movement. Willy scrambled to his feet, swallowing convulsively, and gave her a wretched look.

"I just can't," he said, sounding firm and not a little scared. He walked away without allowing her another word. Had Lauren been a weaker person, she might have been tempted to weep, or curse, with disappointment. Instead she gathered her tattered dignity and discarded needlework together, then headed back home.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_Many thanks_ _to my betas and loyal readers who've stuck by me through this incredibly irritating lull. _

Lauren rose at five o'clock the next day. The Bucket house might have been eerily silent, were it not for the snores of Grandpa George and, surprisingly, Grandma Josephine. Lauren tiptoed past them, forgoing breakfast, and exited into the dusky chocolate room. She wandered over to the small copse of trees where she had shown Charlie the children of the Oompa Loompas. That seemed like a lifetime ago. She say down, her face cold and distant, all aspects of her alter-ego expunged.

"I've been an idiot," she informed the empty air. Alone and clear-headed for the first time in weeks, Lauren examined her actions and found them wanting… mostly in intelligence. She had the recipe; she had a way out. Why was she still here? The incident with Willy gave her the perfect excuse to leave, but even without that excuse, she could now admit that she really hadn't needed a reason at all. The Buckets would have been disappointed, but not suspicious if she cut her visit short. It was more than unlikely that they would be concerned enough to interrogate her, let alone follow her to America. The truth was, she had wanted to stay. She only wished it was Willy that had been her sole motivation.

An inappropriate attraction, while disastrous in its own right, was not such a hard thing to overcome. A love for a family, however, was something that one didn't, possibly even couldn't, throw away lightly. The Derringer logic reasserted itself, slapping down the unhappy thoughts. She wouldn't have to lose touch with the Buckets. She could always write to them, anytime she wanted. In fact, they would probably insist on it.

As for Willy… Well, it would never work out with him, anyway. So she found him attractive, so what? She found lots of men attractive and most of them had far less impediments to a relationship than Willy had. For God's sake, she couldn't even touch the man without him freaking out, how could she expect to ever be happy with him?

Ziegler popped up, protesting that he could learn to touch her, in time. Derringer sneered at the thought, replying that they didn't exactly have all the time in the world to wait around for Willy Wonka to get a clue. Besides, continued the insidious Derringer common sense, it wasn't fair to Willy. After all, Willy was an innocent. His child-like wonder and imagination was what had allowed him to be so successful as a chocolatier. If she forced him to grow up, it could have disastrous effects on his psyche, not to mention his chocolate sales. Say… maybe she should stick around.

At this, Ziegler protested vociferously, and it was the fear of what she might do to Wonka, should she stay, that finally united Lauren to one purpose. She would leave, she would save her company, and Willy Wonka could sink or sail according to the tides of commerce. That decided, Lauren returned to the house and began to pack, wishing the whole time that she had never heard of the word 'love.'

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She didn't tell them until dinner, which made it a lot easier. For one thing, everyone was together in the same room. For another, it was hard to be too concerned when you had a delicious cherry pie in front of you. They tried to convince her to stay, of course, but she stayed firm. She was leaving early the next day because her college was offering some sort of extra scholarship and she needed to be there to apply for it. Of course, she had heard about it from her friend's letter. No, she wouldn't forget to write, if they wouldn't forget to write back.

It wasn't until the table was being cleared that she realized Charlie had slipped out at some point during the uproar. She hoped he wasn't too upset, but she wasn't going to change her mind. She didn't wait up for him to return, but she hadn't really needed to. He shook her gently awake around eleven.

"What?" she asked blearily, her eyes finally focusing on Charlie's tousled brown hair.

His next brought her immediately to wakefulness. "Willy wants you to stop by the inventing room tomorrow, before you leave." Lauren found it hard to drift back off after that.

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The trip to the inventing room was anything but pleasant. Being up so early twice in a row was only part of the problem. Lauren felt as though her shoes were filled with lead. Perhaps gravity had suddenly tripled overnight? She peered at Charlie out of the corner of her eye. No, he appeared to be moving easily enough. Then again, it wasn't he that was walking to the gallows today.

Despite her slow pace, they arrived at the room much to quickly for Lauren's tastes. Charlie stopped at the doorway, gesturing for her to enter. "I don't think I'm supposed to go in with you," he said, looking a little sad.

Lauren nodded. "In case I don't see you later," she said, her eyes on the door, "I'm going to miss you."

"You'll see me," he promised. There was a pause where everything seemed to hesitate. Then Charlie sighed loudly. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Charlie." Lauren strode through the door to meet her fate.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was low, but she startled him anyway.

He jumped, dropping a dropper filled with yellow liquid. It clattered to the table in front of him. There was a pause. "Hi."

He didn't look calm, but he definitely looked better than she expected him to after yesterday. It didn't appear as though Willy was going to find his voice again without a good deal of force. She applied the crowbar to his lips, so to speak. "You wanted to talk to me."

"Uh… yeah," Willy said, looking everywhere but at her. He began to compulsively disorder the desk before him.

"Why?" she asked. His hands stilled, but he didn't answer."I'm leaving, today," Lauren told him, her voice was firm but her lips trembled unconvincingly.

Wonka sensed the weakness and pounced. "Why? Why can't you stay forever? You could go to college here!" he protested, leaving his table and approaching her. "If I can do it, you can do it."

"No, no, no," Lauren replied, shaking her head and backing away from him slightly. He took a step towards her and she immediately retreated, recognizing the eerie role reversal. This was ludicrous; even if she hadn't made up her mind already, this would have done it. Live the rest of her life in a factory; to what purpose? If she had really been going to get a degree, of what use would it be in a place like this? She tried to look stern.

Wonka gave her a plaintive look. "Why not? There's no reason why you can't." He gave her an appealing, little-boy smile.

She wavered momentarily at his expression, but a deep breath and a quick recital of the consequences steadied her nerves. She stared beyond him as she gathered her courage. She wanted to seem firm, but overcompensation was her undoing. Her voice came out flat, sounding emotionless and harsh to the untrained ear. "Because I don't want to."

Wonka looked stunned, then hurt. His violet eyes shuttered and that brittle, defensive smile spread across his face. "Oh, I see. I guess I didn't understand..." he gave a high, false laugh that set Lauren's teeth on edge. Then he turned to go back to his workplace, the bounce gone from his step. Lauren waited a moment, vacillating between leaving it as it was and trying to salvage the relationship. Both options seemed to lead to equally painful outcomes.

The Zeigler and Derringer in her battled it out, each presenting good points for both alternatives. She approached Wonka, noting his eyes flashing in her direction and then back to the candy he was working, valiantly trying to pretend that he didn't see her. She reached out and covered his gloved fingers with hers, only to be startled when he yanked his hand away from her as if burned. It was this reaction that led her to preempt the bickering personalities, spoiling their attempts at preparation by blurting out the truth, a choice she hadn't even considered.

"I love you."

Wonka froze, ceased even to blink, as he adjusted to this news. His head turned slowly, until he was staring her in the eye. In a lost, quiet voice, as soft as hers had been, he asked, "Then why are you leaving me?"

Lauren could feel her heart break, but she had been ready for it. She knew it would hurt both of them, but what she wasn't prepared for was the irrational anger that came with it, anger that she knew could only be directed inwards. But she was a little too tender inside to take it right now, so her wrath erupted outwards in a flurry of honesty. It was definitely the wrong tactic to take when one is concealing an extremely important secret, but Lauren was becoming irrational at this point. She stepped away from him, needing distance now more than ever.

"Can't you see? I can't be with you!" Her voice pleaded with him to understand but it was unmistakably accusing. "You're driving me insane. Before I met you, I knew who and what I was and now… I barely know my own name." She combed frenzied fingers through her hair, struggling to finds words to express herself. "You've turned everything upside down and inside out! I can't see you without wanting to touch you. And I know that I can't, because you don't want it. Hell, you don't even understand it. What I want from you is something you can't give me, so I'm leaving before I wind up doing something really, really stupid."

"But what do you want? I can do it; I can!" Willy protested, stomping his foot a little.

An expression of pain crossed Lauren's face and she shook her head. "No, you can't," she insisted, irritated with him and at the same time with herself for being so impatient. It wasn't his fault that he didn't understand.

"How do you know I can't if you haven't even asked me?"

"I just know." She turned to leave, but he caught her arm frantically, spinning her around. Before she could think rationally, before she could think at all, she was yanking him towards her and kissing him with some wild emotion that was 6 lust, 4 need, 2 passion, and 93 Derringer. That he had no idea what he was doing was obvious, but this wasn't about teaching. This was about control. She forced her tongue into his mouth, past his shocked, unmoving lips to sweep across even, impossibly straight teeth. They opened, reflexively she was sure, but she took complete advantage of it. She thrust inside, hearing him gasp and not caring as she wrapped her fingers around his skull to hold him in place. She took possession of every corner of his mouth, stroking and coaxing his tongue until he groaned and then sucking it into her mouth to play some more. He was leaning against her now, desperate for more of the sensations he had so long been ignorant of, his whole body dependent entirely on her whim. It was the biggest rush she'd ever had and it was that feeling that finally brought her to her senses.

She broke away from him, pushing against his chest and backpedaling until she reached the door. Her eyes were wide with dread as she searched Willy's pale face for some kind of reaction. Bubble gum lip gloss was smeared across his lips, like ice cream on a messy toddler, adding another level of perversity to the image. He was gasping a little for breath, one hand pressed against his chest. His eyes were dazed, but he must've felt her gaze on him because he turned to meet it with his own. She watched focus return and with it comprehension of what had just happened to him. Shock crossed his face, disbelief, then complete and utter bewilderment. It wasn't until the expression of betrayal finally settled on his features that Lauren felt tears prick her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, fumbling urgently for the doorknob behind her. She found it and twisted, almost falling through the frame. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered, then disappeared out the door.

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The plane ride was bearable because this time she went first class, trading up her ticket the minute she arrived at the airport. She was going to be crossing several time zones and this time she wouldn't be arriving in the afternoon after leaving in the morning. In fact, she'd probably be in the United States yesterday, around midnight or so. She refused to sleep in public unless she absolutely had to, and had brought little to entertain her. After half an hour spent trying desperately not to think about what had happened at the factory, she pulled out her journal and tried to order her thoughts. As she paged through it, though, she suddenly became aware of the things she had jotted down here and there.

There were only a few of them on each page, but all together there had to be at least thirty or forty ideas for candy that she had scribbled down and forgotten about. Some of them were pretty good and would probably sell very well if she managed to get them on the market. The more she thought about it, the more excited she grew. Feverishly she began to plot, taking each idea a step further, brainstorming as to what materials would be needed, and trying to conceive of the fastest ways to begin producing them. The hours passed quickly and by the time Lauren was sitting in her limousine on the way to her apartment, she had already assembled an impressive amount of information. She smiled as she lay down, satisfied with her work.

She awoke three hours later from a horrible nightmare about Willy Wonka shooting her factory to pieces with giant exploding sweets.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

_A thousand thank-yous to both my Betas and those who reviewed. I hope this was worth your time and effort._

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Willy lay on the couch, staring despondently at the wall. Lauren had been gone for four days and he couldn't help but believe that he had driven her off. The Buckets had all protested that, of course, this was not true; Lauren had been offered a chance for a scholarship and she'd had to go. She hadn't wanted to and it had been nobody's fault except perhaps the college's.

"I can't decide if I'm more confused or more sad," he said morosely. He didn't turn his head at the sound of the frantic scribbling. "I just don't get it at all. Why did she have to go? What did she want me to do?" His voice had become smaller and smaller until it trailed off. "I need some professional advice."

On his chair, the tiny psychologist cleaned his glasses carefully and gave the man in front of him a meaningful look. At Willy's blanket lack of comprehension, he finally sighed and handed the candyman a note.

Talk To Charlie.

Willy frowned, having trouble believing that all that scribbling had produced only those three words. "What kind of advice is that? How would Charlie know? I mean, he's really smart, and stuff, but this is really heavy. This is almost…" he gulped fearfully, "adult." The Oompa Loompa pointed insistently at the note. Willy stuck out his chin stubbornly, a suspicious glint in his eye. "Suddenly I'm wondering if you're even a real doctor. Sure, you look like one, but shouldn't you have a golf bag or some sort of proof.

The Oompa Loompa rolled his eyes, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scroll. He handed the tiny slip of paper to Willy with a little sigh, as though this was really just another in a long line of indignities he and his fellows were subjected to on a daily basis. After fishing out a magnifying glass, a useful tool when almost everyone around you is a third your size, and squinted at the fine print.

**Loompa Land Academy of Witch Doctoring, Voodoo, and Faith Healing presents you,**

** J. M. Grukchtckt with this certificate of graduation.  
Mazel tov!**

Another scrutinizing squint was aimed the good doctor's way. "Mozel tov? You don't look Jewish." The man made a complicated hand motion. "Okay, okay, possibly on your mother's side." Silence ensued. "Maybe I should talk to Charlie." Doctor Grukchtckt folded his glasses, placed them in his pocket, and quit the room.

Charlie was to be found in the Inventing room, bouncing a brightly colored rubber ball against a side of one of the larger machines. It made a pleasant rhythm which was setting off synchronized song and dance patterns all over the room. Willy stepped over a conga line who were all singing about gum getting stuck on the soles of shoes. "Charlie…"

The boy looked up, his ball bouncing off into the bright recesses, for there were no dim ones in Wonka's factory, of the Inventing room. He smiled wanly. "Yes, Mr. Wonka?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you…" He glanced around guardedly even though the only ones in the room besides them were busy Oompa Loompas. "Privately."

"About Lauren," Charlie stated innocently, looking up into Willy's eyes.

Immediately suspicious, Willy scanned the room again before affecting an entirely false aura of nonchalance. "Why would you say that?" He gave a little laugh that was not at all convincing.

Charlie shrugged. "It just seems to me that whenever you talk privately with me, it's always about Lauren."

Willy had to concede that this was so, but he didn't have to like it. Pouting slightly, he decided to ignore the annoying logic of Charlie's answer, forgiving him this one character flaw in light of their great friendship. Still, it was always disappointing to discover such deviant streaks in such otherwise nice little boys. "Well, I wanted to ask you about something." His ears went red as he saw Charlie's expression change to one of intense curiosity. "Lauren said that she wanted something from me, but she wouldn't tell me what. I thought she might have told you what it was." He looked hopefully at his apprentice.

Frowning thoughtfully, Charlie eventually shook his head. "I don't think so, Mr. Wonka."

"Are you sure? Think hard," he said encouragingly. "If I can just figure out what she wants, I can get it for her somewhere. Then I know she would come back and stay with us forever!" Willy sighed wistfully, "Even if I have to fight off an army of those wicked wangdoodles, I'd do it to get… well… whatever it is she wants.

"Did she give you any hints?" Charlie asked, trying to reason his way through this. "My Grandpa George sometimes gives me riddles, but there are always hints hidden in them to help me find the answer. He said life is just like a riddle. At first it seems like nothing makes sense, but when you have the answer, you realize it was obvious all along."

"I don't know if this is exactly like a riddle, Charlie," Willy said doubtfully. He just knew his face was turning all pink again. He would really rather not tell Charlie about The Kiss. He had been trying very hard not to think of it at all. This wasn't because it had been unpleasant, at least not entirely, but it was definitely frightening and confusing and horribly new. He wasn't used to new things just popping up out of nowhere- mostly because he was convinced that he knew just about everything by now.

Charlie was unwilling to be dissuaded. "Did she say anything or do anything that might have helped you figure it out?" He fixed his benefactor with a searching look that seemed to say 'I know you know something, so tell me, right now, mister!' If Charlie hadn't been such a whiz at candy, he'd have made a good junior detective.

His voice squeaked, "She did… um… that is…" Willy blushed, unable to get it out. His lips sealed shut. His throat swelled closed. Even his normally expressive eyes seemed to close little shutters over themselves, figuratively speaking, of course. Annoyed at his own inability to communicate, he pulled a small piece of paper and a pink crayon out of the mess on the nearby table. 'She Kissed Me,' He wrote in swirly letters on the paper. He then got distracted by embellishing the letters until it was almost impossible to read what had originally been written.

Luckily, Charlie had needed only a glance to read the little note. Surprised, but not really all that much, he ignored Willy's coloring while he considered the ramifications of this new information. He could guess now, after the talks he and Lauren had shared, what she wanted. He wasn't sure how he was going to tell Willy that he couldn't wrap this thing up and send it to his cousin's flat. In fact, he didn't know how to tell Willy anything about… It… at all. He didn't even really want to consider ramifications anymore, not if it involved Willy and Lauren and… It. Shuddering slightly, he made up his mind that breaking the tradition was sometimes the only way to salvage anyone's dignity.

"Mr. Wonka?" he said, waiting until the man looked up from his drawing. "I think I need to loan you a book.

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"Miss Derringer?" a cheerful voice boomed from the office door.

"Ah, Sarah," Lauren said, looking up from her paperwork. A time check revealed it to be six thirty in the morning; most of the employees wouldn't arrive until eight. "Good morning."

The secretary looked slightly confused. "Miss Derringer, weren't you supposed to be in England at least a week longer? I'm sure I couldn't have made a mistake, I had a very detailed appointment schedule filled out, taking your absence into account."

"No, you didn't make any mistakes," Lauren hastened to assure her. "I just decided to cut the trip short. I'd begun to remember why I don't often take vacations." She returned industriously to her reviews.

Mrs. Tewilliger seemed to shrug, though Lauren would have sworn her shoulders hadn't moved. Nevertheless, the secretary smiled and added, "It's nice to see you again, then. It's been lonely without you."

Lauren smiled back. "Thank you, I've felt positively lazy without this place to keep me on my toes." She suddenly thought of something. "Before I forget, Sarah, could you send a memo around to the board, asking them to schedule a meeting either later today or early tomorrow. This is very important, so they absolutely cannot beg off."

"Of course, Miss Derringer."

"Thank you." Sarah left, closing the door behind her. Without really realizing it, Lauren began to hum under her breath to fill the stillness of her office and keep the loneliness at bay.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:- The error continues, my apologies-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had assembled these men and women to tell them of her brilliant espionage plot against Wonka's Chocolates. Now looking around at the familiar faces in the uncomfortable room, she had an overwhelming feeling of finally coming full circle. An inaudible 'click' seemed to echo through the room. Lauren dismissed the feeling, along with the sensation of impending doom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice strong and smooth. "I'm sure you've all been wondering about the progress on our latest project. I am pleased to tell you that I have good news."

Atherton looked shocked. "You mean you managed to actually… steal a recipe from Wonka?" The rest of the group leaned forward, as though she might whisper her answer.

"Yes, I did… but we're not going to use it." Smiling in that not-at-all-reassuring manner, she assumed an oratory tone. "Wonka targets children, not only them, but the little boys and girls hidden within us all. He's very good at it, and we cannot hope to challenge such a premier salesman. We are going to focus on a different audience. We will target adults. It's an untapped market and we are going to make a killing. Trust me." Everyone shifted uneasily. She flipped open the dossier, inviting them all to follow suit. "On the front page, you'll find a list, one that I have already taken the liberty of delivering to your people in Research and Development, Joyce. Behind that you'll find projections, sorted by probability of the fastest production times and based on my opinion of their worth. If you have any reasons why we cannot begin conversion and production as soon as possible, voice them now. If not, I'll call your attention to the cost-benefits analysis."

From that point on, the meeting was hers. Any objections, and there were few, were overridden by a sheer excess of information. In a creative frenzy last night, she had closeted herself with a few of her best accountants and developmental department heads, brainstorming, expanding, and debating the various ideas. She had an excellent understanding of the material, whereas the board had just seen it for the first time. With that advantage, combined with a natural talent for dominating meetings, she quickly rode her opponents in to the ground. They wandered out of the War Room, dazed, confused, and clutching lengthy production and conversion lists. Lauren retired to her office to make some calls.

Returning to her lavish penthouse should have felt wonderful after weeks in the Bucket's tiny home. Here she had her own bed, silk sheets, an espresso machine, and a twelve-disk CD changer. Somehow, though, the apartment only felt empty. The stylish decorations made the place seem cold and unwelcoming; combined with its obsessive cleanliness, courtesy of a local cleaning service, it smelled sterile. Shuddering slightly at the sound her of footsteps echoing on the tiled floor of her kitchen, she popped a microwave dinner into the oven. To fill up the silence and kill a bit of time, she flipped on the television.

"News out of Beruit today, 15 activists were killed in what the local officials are calling an unfortunate -"

Click.

"Lassie? What is it girl? What's wrong?"

Click.

"Canadian singer-songwriter, Megan Warner, opens with her hot new single, 'Metaphor,' marking her sixth chart-topping hit since her breakthrough album, 'Shadow Lover,' broke the-"

Click.

"AHHHH! A g-g-g-g-g-g-GHOST! Run for it, Scoobie!"

Click.

"And in other news, the Right to Know Act, concerning closed adoption files goes into effect starting tomorrow, giving children adopted as far back as the 1960's access to their reco-"

Click.

"I'm sorry, but I can't be with you, Carson. I… I… I'm married to your father!"

Thoroughly annoyed, Lauren turned the TV off and picked up another nearby remote. Perhaps a little music might fill the space better than MTV or 'Lassie, Come Home.' She pointedly ignored her open bedroom door, through which her unpacked suitcase was clearly visible. She'd started to go through it, wanting to get the evidence safely stored away as quickly as possible, but had run across the wrapped package she had always meant to give to Willy at some point. She had quickly stuffed it under her bed, zipped the suitcase shut, and refused to touch it since. Lauren sighed; she really should finish that up. The microwave oven began to beep and she rose, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen. She'd finish it, of course, after she wrote her family to tell them she'd had a safe trip.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:- The error continues, my apologies-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Charlie sat in the inventing room, carefully mixing and measuring the red and yellow liquids in front of him. He was so involved in his experiment, that the loud banging sound coming from the other side of the room didn't even faze him. It wasn't until Willy Wonka himself, looking curiously disheveled, sat down beside him, that he turned away from his concoction. "Hullo, Mr. Wonka."

"Is it true?" Willy asked, his voice a little rough and his eyes slightly wild.

"The book?" Charlie asked, and Willy winced. "Yes, it's all true."

Willy shook his head, stood up, and began to pace. "How could I not know about this?"

"Didn't you ever wonder where babies came from, Mr. Wonka?"

"They come from parents, that's all I ever needed to know! I always assumed that was what was wrong with most children, come to think of it," Willy added thoughtfully. He looked surprised that he was even able to vocalize those thoughts. After a moment's consideration, he finally noticed that Charlie seemed to be in the middle of an experiment. His eyes lit up with interest, grateful to change the subject away from It. "Hey, whatcha doin'?"

A strangely furtive looks swept across Charlie's face. "Nothing… I'm just working on some color samples for the Decolorizingly Cordial."

Willy didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, which wasn't necessarily unusual. The tall man stood up and began to wander away in the direction of the Gobstopper machine. "Groovy, Charlie. Really, far out. Look, I'll see you in a bit, then…"

Slightly worried, Charlie felt he had to ask, "Look, Mr. Wonka, how far have you gotten in the book, anyway?"

Willy blanched and muttered, "The first chapter... almost."

Charlie shook his head, "So you haven't seen any of the pictures yet?"

Starting so badly he nearly lost his balance, Willy whispered in a dazed, horrified tone. "There are pictures?" He shambled off, hat askew, occasionally bumping into walls and other stationary objects. Charlie sighed and turned back to his work.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**Many, many thanks to all of my reviewers and the betas who have been instrumental in the continued high quality of this fanfiction. I'm sorry it's so short. Don't give up on me yet, we're almost there!**

Willy wandered into the Chocolate Room a little after lunchtime. He had already eaten, but the smell of hot barbeque pork sandwiches drew him gently towards the Bucket house. He poked his head inside experimentally. Upon seeing Mrs. Bucket alone, he hesitantly stepped inside. He waited patiently until she finished scraping the leftover barbeque into the container before giving a hesitant peep.

Mrs. Bucket jumped, one hand reaching up to cover her heart, the other moving to lay against her stomach. "Willy!" She seemed to sigh with relief as she grabbed the lid and fastened it over the top. "You gave me a fright."

He gave a high, nervous laugh, which died away with unconvincing abruptness. "Is anyone… else… here?"

Turning around to place the container into the icebox, Mrs. Bucket replied, "No, I'm sorry, I don't know where they could have all gotten to."

"Oh," Willy started to turn back around, paused, pivoted, then pivoted back. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and gave a strange squeak. Mrs. Bucket promptly, and quite correctly, translated this into "I need to talk."

"Willy, have a seat," she said, point to the small couch in the corner where her and Mr. Bucket's bed used to be.

"Oh, I really have so much else to be doing," Willy protested, moving quickly towards the couch and sitting down. He looked at her expectantly.

Scooting onto the edge of the Grandparent's bed, Emma picked up her sewing bag and began to darn one of Mr. Bucket's socks. "Now Willy, tell me what's on your mind."

"Limalicious Sonic Slicks," Willy said promptly.

Taking this in stride, Mrs. Bucket neither sighed nor rolled her eyes. "All right, now tell me the truth."

Looking at her in amazement, Willy experienced for the first time the legendary 'Mother's Instinct.' He wondered if it might be possible to bottle it. Would Mrs. Bucket give him a sample? The other half of his brain was chagrined that someone, and a parent, of all people, should be able to read him so well. He supposed Charlie must have gotten his incisiveness from his mother, rather than acquiring it by osmosis, as Willy had previously hypothesized. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bucket was patiently waiting for Willy to cease staring into space and answer the question.

"Willy?" she prompted gently.

"Lauren," Willy said, the name slithering out of his mouth before he could stop it. He blushed to the roots of his hair, pale skin suffused with color. "I mean, I've been thinking about her a lot."

Mrs. Bucket began to piece a hundred little glances and comments together. "You like Lauren?" she stated neutrally.

Willy's tone turned slightly defensive. "Everybody likes Lauren," he replied airily. Mrs. Bucket gave him a steady look without missing a stitch. She was even better at it than Dr. Grukchtckt; Willy's resistance melted away like cotton candy in a tsunami. "I think she's swell."

"Did you tell her that?" she asked.

Looking everywhere but at Mrs. Bucket, he spoke. "Yes, at least, I think I did. Sometimes I have conversations with her that later turn out not to have really happened at all. It gets confusing after awhile."

"I see," Mrs. Bucket replied.

To his surprise, Willy rather thought she did. He plucked up his courage and posed the question that had been on his mind all week."How do you know when you're in love?" he asked faintly, his voice small and confused. He devoutly hoped her answer wouldn't be 'you just know.' He didn't know what he would do if she said that, but he imagined it wouldn't be easily forgiven. Luckily Mrs. Bucket was much too clever to say something so foolish.

She paused in her sewing to think for a moment. "Well, I suppose it's when you're a different person when that person's around, and when they're gone you don't just miss them, you miss yourself as well."

Something clicked in Wonka's brain as two previously unrelated ideas collided and merged with one another. Love, in his mind, was linked with all sorts of bad things that he didn't really comprehend. To his understanding, loving someone involved a lot of invasions of personal space, the asking of intrusive questions, the use of flowery compliments or obnoxious nicknames, and lots and lots of cooties. But the idea of love was now firmly connected to the idea of Lauren, to which no such unpleasant stigma was attached. Lauren meant shiny pink lipgloss, orange-scented hair, and intense eyes that shined with some sort of mysterious knowledge. Willy, always a curious sort, found those eyes irresistible. After he had pondered that for a moment, he wandered out of the house without so much as a good-bye.

Mrs. Bucket didn't take offense, though she was rather worried about their family's benefactor. He had never been the most stable individual, but he was family and she cared about him. She wondered if it would be good for her niece to be involved with someone as strange as Willy Wonka, always assuming she wanted to be. She didn't want Willy to be hurt, but Lauren was family too, and she was so young. Why, Willy had to be at least ten years older than the young woman! But Lauren seemed to be very together for a college student. Emma spent the rest of the evening puzzling over who would be the unequal in the relationship, balancing Lauren's age against Willy's complete lack of social aptitude. Eventually she gave up, upon the formation of the most blinding headache.

* * *

The days passed. Lauren's Crystalline ornaments and conversational pieces sold record-breaking numbers. Her novelty pieces, such as life-size chocolate sculptures of anything from the Venus de Milo to Orlando Bloom, were gaining popularity at parties. She created a line of chocolate coated caramel-marshmallow apples that had real seeds, ready for planting, in the center. There was coffee-candy that tasted like mochachino and gave you a caffeine boost to boot. There was endorphine bubblegum, that had to be approved by the medical review board first, and gum that you chewed and could blow bubbles in seven different colors. That wasn't even counting the co-ventures she'd prepared and released: a line of envelopes with candy-flavored glue to lick, edible cupcake-scented air fresheners, candy jewelry that looked real and never got sticky, lickable wall paper for nurseries, edible finger-nail polish, kool-aide flavored toothpaste, chocolate body-paint, and scented, edible ink.

She was making a fortune, and her new fat-free confections hadn't even finished preliminary testing yet. Once they were perfected, there would be a whole new target audience and they would be raking in millions of dollars. She was planning on throwing the kids a few bones too, with some edible pencils and other school supplies. Now if she could just get her new geriatric candy up to taste standards, she could begin producing vitamins and fiber-pills hidden within delicious candy coatings. Yes, life was good, and pretty soon the whole country would know it. Why, she even had an interview with a magazine tomorrow, and had been promised the cover story! What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Willy stared at the magazine with a feeling that went beyond disbelief. She wasn't wearing her glasses. Her smile, lined in licorice red, made something in the vicinity of his heart ache. The pale blonde hair made her look older and, if that were possible, more beautiful. She was the very image of the skilled, shark-like American businesswoman. Ignoring the article, his eyes traveled down to the words, printed in lavender script below her picture: 

"Chocolate Empress Reigns Supreme"

And further down, in darker purple:

"Trouble for Wonka?"

It was like being lost in the Loompan jungle, like having your workers steal your secrets, like coming home and realizing home wasn't there. He had never felt so betrayed, so alone. He must have been in shock, because he wasn't feeling much of anything. Intellectually he was angry, more angry than he could ever remember being, but inside there was only a terrible, calm stillness. He rose, jamming his hat decisively on his head. Charlie stood in front of him, an expression of confused incredulity and trepidation on his face. "Come on, Charlie. We have an appointment in New York."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**Credit goes to my betas and the people who have so... fervently requested an update. Thank you so much.**

Lauren smiled, heady with triumph. She had done it. They were so far in the black, she had managed to replace the cushion and still keep incredibly wide profit margins. Her board was fawning over her like courtesans, the doubters taking care to act as though they had believed in her all along. Business was booming, the company was thriving… and yet. Her smile faded. In four hours she was going home to an empty apartment to write a letter full of lies to people who thought of her as a daughter. Before she could do anything repulsively weak, a small buzzer went off. She cleared her throat and pushed the button. "Yes, Sarah?"

"Your ten o'clock has arrived ma'am. Shall I send them in or wait until the hour?" The secretary's enthusiastic tone was just as it always was. That was a comfort.

"Wait ten minutes," she instructed, glancing at the clock. "I have to make a quick phone call."

"Yes, ma'am," Sarah replied. The connection ended abruptly.

Lauren leaned over and picked up the phone, dialing the memorized number. "Yes, this is Lauren Derringer, I'm checking the progress of my friend, Irene Bucket." There was a pause as the nurse pulled the file up on the computer. "Yes, I want to arrange a meeting as soon as she is allowed to have visitors again." Another pause, as the woman added the request to the file. "No, that's everything, thank you." She hung up, then grabbed the file that contained the name and information on her upcoming meeting.

His name was Lon W. Kilway, a small business owner who claimed to have invented a revolutionary new way to extend the shelf-life of certain candies. He was interested in selling the patent, if she found his proposal intriguing, but refused to elaborate beyond that. She turned her chair to face away from the door, trying to skim the most pertinent parts in the five minutes she had left. The door creaked open and there was a moment of silence before Sarah's voice rang out. "Yes, Sarah?" Lauren asked, without turning.

"Can I get you some coffee, Miss Derringer?" her secretary's voice chimed in that familiar, bubbly tone.

The clatter of a tray being sat down was ignored. Lauren replied. "No thank you, Sarah, but leave the tray; Mr. Kilway might like some." She skipped down to the price Mr. Kilway was quoting for his new procedure, smirking at the number of zeros. That would be the first thing to come down before she would touch the idea.

"Oh, I don't think Mr. Kilway likes coffee," Sarah's voice echoed from the left. "He'd probably prefer something a bit sweeter." Sarah's voice began to change halfway through the sentence, becoming higher, but more masculine. There was the soft sound of rubber against rubber, causing Lauren to freeze. She spun around, hardly believing her eyes or ears.

"Willy."

Willy leaned against the side of the her desk, arms folded forbiddingly. His smile was frozen on his face, his eyes hidden by dark glasses. Dressed in black and forest green, with his familiar pin in place, he made her fiercely homesick. She forced an equally false smile into place and gestured for him to have a seat. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Wonka? Tea?"

"A cup of hot water, if you don't mind," he replied, more composed than she'd ever seen him. She covered her confusion by pouring water from the teapot into a cup and handing it to him. His fingers brushed hers and she wasn't stupid enough to believe it was an accident. With Willy, anything physical would have to be calculated, otherwise it wouldn't have happened. "I asked your secretary to get Charlie a hot chocolate, so neither of them will disturb us while we talk."

"How thoughtful of you," Lauren replied, her tone almost even.

He poured a small packet into the water and turned the teacup gently to stir it. He set it on the desk in front of him, making no move to drink. "You know, Lauren, I read the strangest article yesterday. Apparently the owner of a candy company came back from a sabbatical a few months ago with these amazing new ideas for candy. It seems she was really inspired by the little trip she took, because she's now eclipsing my sales by a decent margin. Have you heard anything about this?"

Lauren's eyes narrowed. This was a different side of Willy, adult and, apparently, ironic. At least she knew how he had found out about her... She had known that interview would be a bad idea. "I'm afraid I haven't had much time to keep up with magazines and such. My business keeps me extremely busy."

"I'm sure," he replied easily, his smile never wavering. He spun the teacup again, the steam spinning off of it. Her gaze was drawn to the slowly turning china and the scent from the cup was filling the air. It was familiar, that was for certain. It was sweet, but not cloyingly so. She felt her mind starting to drift as she tried to place the scent.

"That smell…" she began, her voice sounded distant to her own ears.

"Do you like it? I call it 'Essence of Lumin,' the diluted form is used in some of my newer candies…" His voice washed over her, making her feel further disconnected. She furrowed her brow in confusion, understanding his words, but not able to put it together. "Lauren, how do you feel?"

"Strange… everything seems so far away," she heard herself say.

"Why did you impersonate Charlie's cousin, Lauren?" he asked softly.

"I needed ideas," she said dreamily.

"Why was that?"

"My people couldn't compete with you…. not after your contest," she explained abstractedly. There was a pause. "My company might have gone under… my father's company" Her mind led her off on a detour. "He always wanted to go international."

"Which ideas of mine did you steal?" he asked, his voice quiet, but definitely angry.

The line between Lauren's brows deepened. "I didn't use them. I had my own ideas. In the end, I saved us, all by myself."The silence stretched out as Lauren fuzzily contemplated the look on Willy's face. It was too hard to focus, though, so she let it go.

"Lauren, why did you leave the factory?"

For a moment she struggled to come back to herself. That question was one she didn't want to answer! Wasn't it? She wasn't sure anymore. What did it matter anyway? Everything was so soft and lovely where she was, like all the hard edges on the world had been sanded away.

"I wanted you too much."

"But I wanted you, too. I wanted you to stay forever."

She shook her head stubbornly. "You don't want me like I want you." The fog lifted for a moment and that searing kiss came back to her. The want of him invaded her abruptly, but she was too confused to move.

"How do you want me?" Willy asked a little breathlessly.

So she told him. She wanted to tear his clothing off, to press herself closer than a whisper against his skin, to take him hard, fast, slowly, carefully, over and over again. She wanted to hold him in her arms when he came apart and to be held when she followed him. She wanted him on the desk, against the wall, on top, underneath, in her bed, or on the floor, even outside on the grass. A deep hunger built inside her at the feelings careening wildly across Willy Wonka's face. There were quite a few words in her vocabulary to describe the look, but of them all 'flabbergasted' came closest. He looked as though someone had blown his mind,…and perhaps she had.

He stood, shakily but hardly in any danger of falling. The scented air was thinning and Lauren was coming back to herself, she watched with growing awareness. His hat went on his head, his cane steadied him as he walked towards her. He moved gracefully, like he was dancing, until he was invading her personal space. His voice was a soft hiss. "I dislike liars, I detest thieves, and I positively loathe spies…" he leaned close to her, so very near that they seemed less than a hair's breadth apart. His breath whispered across her ear and she closed her eyes. "So why don't I hate you?"

She kissed him. How could she have done anything else? It was comparatively chaste, but there was an electric warmth there. Heat flushed through her chemically weakened system and she knew that she wanted him here, now, perhaps more than she'd ever wanted anything before. But she could feel him shaking, his hands trembling from where they had cautiously gripped her elbows. Lauren released him, her eyes still closed, and felt him step back. She put a hand over her eyes and didn't remove it until the door opened and shut behind him. Love sucked.

* * *

The elevator ride was as excruciating as it was interminable, but Charlie was waiting for him on the roof. The calm fury that had sustained him was evaporating. He was falling apart and the sky was coming down around his head. The stars and the Earth had switched places, leaving him tumbling between the two. How was he supposed to understand anything when he couldn't even get his feet underneath him? A beep sounded, registering in his brain like an angelic chorus. He strode quickly through the open doors, until he was running and Charlie was sprinting to keep up. The glass elevator was already open, a necessary precaution, and Willy dashed through. He began groping for the 'home' button almost before Charlie was inside. A mixture of confusion and leftover passion from his encounter made his hands unsure. Saving his friend's dignity, Charlie hit the button himself.

As they rose into the air, Willy sank to the floor, staring sightlessly down at the giant logo on the top of the building: D.C., Derringer Chocolates. He gave a hoarse little laugh, which turned into a sob. Charlie stepped in front of him, a troubled, sad look on his face. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around his best friend. Germs forgotten, Willy burrowed his head into Charlie's soft, knitted sweater and wept.

* * *

She couldn't believe it. She absolutely could not believe it. And yet, the evidence was right in front of her eyes, so how could she not? Emma Bucket set the magazine down and it was immediately snatched up by her father-in-law. He stared at it for a long time, then threw it on the floor and stomped outside, banging the rickety door loudly. Georgina's expression was curiously blank as Josephine gently took her old friend's hands. Joe stood silently, wringing at his wrists non-stop, glancing about for something to do. He finally settled for putting the kettle on. Emma was surprised she hadn't thought of it herself.

"I just can't believe it," James whispered hollowly, echoing her thoughts. "She was so real. How could it have all been an act?"

"I don't know, darling," Emma replied, wrapping her arms around herself. Suddenly she felt cold all over. As if sensing her distress, James enfolded her in a hug, pulling her back against his chest and setting his chin atop her head. "We'll get over this. We're Buckets."

"Only, think how poor Charlie must feel," Grandpa Joe said solemnly, the sadness in his eyes magnified by his spectacles.

"Yes, poor Charlie," Grandma Georgina said, sniffing a little.

"You know-," Josephine began, but was interrupted when the door banged open again.

"I don't care what any of you say, that girl's family. I know it in my bones," George glared around the room, as if daring the occupants to challenge them. His eyes softened when he reached Georgina. "She's family, a Bucket through and through."

"Pop, how could she be?" James asked, his voice sad.

George's voice roughened. "I don't know how, I only know that she is. Even if it isn't blood in her, she's connected to us now. I know it, and I know you know it. The only question is, what are we going to do about it?"

Emma looked up at her husband, who met her worried eyes. "Let's give it a few days, put some thought into it…"

"A few days? It's been months and months. I want to see my granddaughter again. I want to get this straightened out," George said harshly, gesticulating widely.

"George," Joe said, his voice low and demanding. "We should at least wait until Charlie comes back…"

George ran his hands over his sparse hair and sighed, before finally nodding. The anger seemed to have drained out of him for now. He looked sheepishly at his wife. "Of course, we'll wait for Charlie."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**This chapter has not been Beta-ed, so all mistakes are mine alone. Sorry for skipping the formalities, but I figured I owed you guys a real chapter. I hope to have another up soon.**

The days passed, if not quickly then at an acceptable pace for all concerned. Lauren buried herself in work, high-society gatherings, and the occasional book. She avoided romance novels and left every party alone or with a female friend. She continued to write to the Buckets, but the letters piled up on her desk rather than being posted. She was too ashamed even to attempt to explain her actions. Maybe someday, when the pain had faded a little. She tried not to feel like a coward.

It was on Friday that she returned to her apartment to find a first-class envelope addressed to her from the state of New York. Confused as to why they would send it here, rather than the office, she opened it quickly. After pouring a cup of coffee, she stood at her kitchen counter and began skimming through the documents. It didn't seem to make any real sense. These were adoption papers. She wasn't adopting anyone; she had never even thought about children at all.

She glanced at the address to make sure they were really for her. After turning past all the pages of complex legal jargon, she glanced down at the signatures on the documents. Underneath those of their lawyers at the bottom, her parent's names were signed: Vivian and Arthur Derringer. She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Unfortunately legal documents fell under the heading of 'bare unalterable facts' in Lauren's mind. Though it boggled said mind to admit it, she was, apparently, adopted. Derringer wasn't even her real last name!

Quickly paging through it, she arrived at her birth certificate. Her name was prominently displayed, Lauren Derringer. The space for her father's name had been left blank, but next to the space for her mother's name was not Vivian's. Instead, in wobbly cursive, was the name Irene Bucket.

* * *

Willy could not longer say the word 'cousin.' The name 'Lauren' was similarly taboo. To be perfectly honest, it was almost impossible for him to make any passing reference to the situation, even with the use of a handy pronoun. Charlie noticed that he had begun spending increasingly large increments of time alone, in some hidden part of the factory, working on what Charlie was certain wasn't candy. He didn't ask many questions at first, but when Willy disappeared for three days at a time, Charlie began to get just a bit worried.

Knowing he'd be unable to find his friend on his own, especially when he didn't want to be found, he cheated a bit. Quite a few Oompa Loompas were willing to spill the beans on Willy's secret hidey-hole, perturbed as they were by their employer's more-erratic-than-usual behavior. Within twenty minutes, Charlie was standing in front of a door marked 'cleaning chemicals: absolutely uninteresting. Intruders Beware!'

"Subtle," Charlie thought, and then immediately felt a warm glow of pride. That had been his first sarcastic, cynical adult-like thought. He really was growing up at last. Putting that aside for now, he opened the door and stepped inside, completely unprepared for what was in front of him.

It was a chemical closet, full of ammonia, bleach, and other cleaning products. Against one wall a variety of cleaning implements hung in neat rows. Charlie's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. The Oompa Loompa reached around him and squeezed the handle of a nearby bottle of cleaning solution. Immediately, an entire wall swung back, revealing a long corridor painted a deep, dark red. Charlie swallowed hard, which earned him a sympathetic look from Oompa Loompa, and set off.

The hallway spiraled inward, Charlie was sure, and made several odd twists back on itself. It reminded him of nothing so much as the large red ribbons tied onto Christmas packages. He wondered if that was what Wonka had been going for. Finally, at long last, he arrived at a pair of fantastical silver-colored doors. Beyond relieved, Charlie knocked firmly on the door. The lack of an answer struck him as particularly anti-climactic… or at least, it would have, had he known the word 'anticlimactic.'

He reached for the handle, testing the lock. To his surprise, the door swung open easily enough. There were no traps waiting to spring on him, and he did remember to check, Wonka being the paranoid individual that he was. There was no trick wall or pit of jello to fall into. There wasn't even a 'Turn Back Now' sign. For a moment, Charlie wondered if he was in the right place. "Willy?" he called into the dim room.

"Charlie?" came a slightly muffled reply.

As his eyes adjusted to the near dark, he realized this was a bedroom. A large four-poster bed, complete with heavy velvet curtains, dominated one side of the large space. Charlie realized that what little light there was seemed to be emanating from there. In the next minute, it was gone, there was the sound of scrabbling around, and then the fully lighting came on. Willy and Charlie stared at each other, blinking.

Long after his eyes became accustomed to the light, Charlie continued to blink and stare. Willy was wearing by far the strangest outfit he'd ever seen, and that was saying something. They must have been pajamas, but they looked like something from an old kung-fu movie. A bright-blazing white, they tied with a white sash. On his head he wore a long, white night cap. Charlie couldn't shake the suspicion, though he had no concrete evidence to back it up with, that those pajamas glowed in the dark. Politeness long forgotten in the wake of Willy's bizarre Pjs, Charlie finally asked, "Willy, what are you doing here?"

Willy looked uncomfortable. "Um… well, I was just, uh, studying."

"Studying?" Charlie asked, "Like, about new candy being made in China or something?"

"Um, not exactly," Willy admitted.

Charlie sighed. "It's that book I gave you, isn't it?" He didn't wait for his friend to answer. The guilty look was proof enough. "I wouldn't have given it to you if I'd known you were going to lock yourself away from everything. I mean, there can't be anything that bad in it. I read a chapter and I'm fine!"

By this point, Willy's face was bright red and he was desperate to change the subject. "It's nothing. I'm fine too. I just got a little caught up with all the new information. Was there something particularly important you needed me for?"

At just that moment, the last component of the Idea Charlie had been working on fell into place. Excited beyond belief, a huge smile spread across his face. "Yes. I need a favor. I need you to fly me to California."

* * *

Charlie stepped out of the elevator and turned back to Willy with a very serious look on his face. He held up a piece of paper. "Here is the address where she lives. It shouldn't take you more than fifteen minutes to get there. I'll meet you back here in an hour, all right?"

Willy took the paper gingerly, between thumb and forefinger. His nose wrinkled in distaste, not at the germs, though those were disgusting, but at the neatly printed address written on it. "You know, maybe this isn't such a good idea. I mean, we haven't called ahead. It's rude, you know. I do so hate to be rude."

"Would you rather come inside with me and we can visit her later?" Charlie asked pointedly.

Willy blanched and mimed sticking his finger down his throat. Charlie grinned, reached inside the elevator, and pressed the 'close' button. He ducked out again quickly, waving good-bye to the startled Wonka as the elevator ascended. Straightening his shoulder, Charlie then walked up to the door in the suburban neighborhood and rang the bell.

He waited patiently until the door opened and a familiar face stared down at him, quizzically. "Hello, Mrs. Beauregarde, may I speak to Violet, please?"

The sweat-clad woman looked thoughtful. "You look familiar. Are you one of Violet's friends from school?"

"I'm a friend, yes," Charlie said truthfully.

The woman squinted her bug-eyes suspiciously, then nodded and stepped aside so he could enter. "Violet is upstairs, second door on the right." She pointed towards the steps, then climbed back onto her treadmill. On the television screen, a toned young man was shouting encouragement to a group of men and women in multi-colored exercise suits, who were also on treadmills. Charlie headed up the stairs and away from the noise.

He knocked quietly on the door and a moment later Violet pulled it open. She was still noticeably purple, though it did look more indigo now, than anything. "Charlie Bucket?" she asked, gum suspiciously missing. "What are you doing here."

"I wanted to give you something."

Violet shrugged, did a casual back flip, then sat down on her bed. "What's that?"

Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, wrapped in a pale orange wrapper. He held it out to her with a very grave expression on his face. "Here."

She took it reluctantly and for once did not pop a piece of gum directly in her mouth. "Is this going to turn me back to normal?" She asked, chewing slightly on her bottom lip.

"Yes. I had to find the right combination to balance out the blueberries. Other berries are easy, but blueberries aren't something you want to mess around with." Charlie's rueful voice betrayed that he had learned this through personal experience.

Violet stared at the gum thoughtfully. She looked almost conflicted, though Charlie couldn't imagine why. "Do I have to decide right now?" she asked finally.

Shrugging, Charlie shoved his hands into his pocket. "I don't think it will lose any of it's strength for a long time, but I wouldn't wait more than a year. Willy could probably tell you to within the hour, but I'm still learning."

"You really like all that candy stuff, memorizing and mixing and all that?" Violet sounded almost curious. In fact, she hadn't been rude or mean yet, and he'd been in the room with her a whole five minutes. Maybe the blueberries had changed more than her outside…

"Yes. I think candy is wonderful. I can't imagine my life without it," Charlie answered honestly.

Violet smiled, but her eyes seemed more troubled than content. "I guess it's all worked out for the best, then. You're going to be the next Willy Wonka, and I'm going to go to the Olympics."

Charlie smiled a bit, before looking away pensively. "Is that really what you want, Violet, another gold medal?"

Violet shrugged, obviously not giving the question her full attention. "I guess so. I've always wanted to win, just like my Mom."

"Why don't you want to be normal again?" he asked then, switching topics suddenly.

She looked uncomfortable, "I just like being different."

"But your mother doesn't like it, she wants you to be the best."

"She wants me to fit in, like the other kids. I don't fit so well, though; I never did. Mom said it was because I was the frontrunner, and a frontrunner is always ahead, always alone. I don't think she believes that anymore. She'd give anything if I could be back to the way I was."

Charlie nodded his understanding. "Then, what do you want?"

Another shrug, this one more eloquent. "I like being blue. It fits… I don't know why, but when I look in the mirror, I've always seen myself this way. Maybe being different on the outside is more real to what I am inside…." She paused, then met his eyes. Her expression was curiously wise and Charlie felt an unusual sort of awe begin to steal over him. He shook it off as she continued, "Besides, some people are meant to be alone."

Charlie thought that was very profound and a little sad; it made him wish he understood her better. There was more to Violet Beauregarde than met the eye, and suddenly he wanted to be her friend more than he wanted anything else in the world. "Sometimes, being different doesn't mean you have to be alone. It just means you haven't found the right people yet."

Violet smiled back, even her teeth were a pale, sky blue. "Maybe."

* * *

The house was rapidly approaching and Willy's excuses for why he should just turn around now were increasing inversely to the distance still needed to be covered. Unfortunately, due to atmospheric conditions, his solar-powered elevator was fast running out of charge. It would probably make it a little past his destination, but then he would be in an unknown place waiting for a break in the clouds. If there was anything Willy hated more than spies or beige, it was boredom, and waiting around in a glass box promised to supply it in plenty. Annoyed and worried, Willy almost didn't notice when he touched down in front of a house exactly like every other one on the street on which it was situated. Almost.

He stepped cautiously outside, looking left and right before exiting the elevator. He left the doors open; the elevator wouldn't respond to anyone but he and Charlie anyway. The pathway was straight as a ruler, which naturally invoked his long-repressed fear of rulers. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. The bushes were trimmed exactly into perfect cubes, just like all the bushes on the street. The house was the same color as the one next to it, with the exception of the trim. This trim was white, the next-door-neighbor's was beige. Willy shuddered violently. Taking a deep breath, he tentatively approached the door. He nervously adjusted his goggles, smoothed his hair, and straightened his collar. He could do this.

Without stopping to think he picked up his cane and jabbed the doorbell. He waited, every muscle tensed, for the inevitable…

Nothing happened. "Well, guess no one's home. Oh well," he turned swiftly to sprint back towards the elevator, otherwise known as 'safety.'

"Hello," said the thing in his path.

Willy gagged. He cringed. He held up his cane to ward it off. He backed as far back against the wall as the house would allow. "Susan!" he gasped, the breath leaving his lungs. The little girl giggled, shiny white teeth flashing against peaches and cream skin. Blonde curls bounced, shiny shoes shone, frilly dress…frilled, it made Willy want to scream, except it would be hard to scream when he was hyperventilating. Any minute now, she would grab his braces and… and…

"Hi, I'm Susan McCain, can I help you?" an older woman asked, smiling gently as she took the little girl's hand.

"You are… Susan?" he gasped out, breathlessly. He couldn't believe it. But of course, she must have gotten bigger because he had gotten bigger. He wasn't thinking. Naturally, the little disgusting child couldn't be his cousin, Susan, she was much too young. He let out a high-pitched giggle of relief.

"Yes, and you are…?" Susan was saying, looking a little worried.

"Oh, yes," Willy removed his hat and goggles, giving her a little bow. He didn't want to take his eyes off that little thing for a moment. It might attack. "I'm Willy, Willy Wonka." He smiled stiffly, hoping he looked friendly.

The woman looked surprised, or maybe she was just expressing pain at the ear-splitting shriek her offspring had produced. "Willy Wonka, the candyman!" it shouted excitedly, beginning to jump up and down, vibrating like a giant bumblebee. Willy scowled; he hated bumblebees.

"Megan, I know I've taught you better than that!" Susan said sharply, and the little girl stopped hopping. "Well, Willy, you've certainly changed. I haven't heard from you in almost twenty years."

"Hey, I sent a Christmas card," he objected.

"My apologies, I haven't heard from you in ten years," Susan corrected primly. Willy felt that was really a bit much, considering he hadn't gotten a Christmas card from her at all. "Would you like to come inside then?"

Willy glance longingly at the great glass elevator, but finally nodded. "I suppose."

She led the way inside the immaculate living room, gesturing to a comfortable-looking chair near a large potted plant. Willy sat down gingerly, trying not to touch anything more than necessary. "Would you like some coffee or a soda?" she asked politely.

"Have you got any fizzy-lifting drinks?" he asked hopefully.

Susan shook her head. "We don't buy them anymore, ever since Megan got stuck in a tree a month ago." The child looked sheepish, but the stars in her eyes didn't fade.

"I very clearly printed on each warning label, 'Do Not Use Without a Tether.'" Willy said sternly.

"How about some lemonade?" his cousin suggested, changing the subject abruptly.

Willy thought about that, then nodded. When Susan had disappeared into the kitchen, he found himself alone with… it. The barrage began immediately. "Do you really own a huge factory? Are there really over a thousand rooms? Can you make any kind of candy? Is it true you invent a new flavor each year? How do you do it all by yourself? Where's Charlie? Can I meet him? Are you my Uncle or my cousin too? Daddy says you don't look like Mommy at all! Are you really related to her? When I grow up, I want to be a candy man, too!"

In complete bewilderment, Willy made the only decision he could. "What's that over there?" he asked, pointing to the hallway behind her. Megan whirled to see. By the time she had turned back around, Willy was already in the kitchen. "Heh, heh… need any help?" he asked his startled cousin.

"No, I'm fine," Susan replied. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt, which was just as well, really. There was no need for her to be all calm and collected when he was only barely managing his usual suave self-assurance. He smiled grimly, determined not to break the silence that had fallen. It was like a game. His grandparents had always played the quiet game with him when he was young, and he nearly always lost. Now was his change to redeem himself! If he could only- "So, Willy, why are you really here?"

Willy jumped, almost knocking his lemonade over. "Oh… um… well, Dr. Grukchtckt thought that I might need some closure, but it was really Charlie's idea."

Susan wrinkled her brow. "Charlie?"

"My heir," Willy added, a little perturbed that she hadn't already heard about this. After all, his contest had been the stuff of legend.

"Your hair?" Susan asked, looking confused.

Now Willy was annoyed; honestly, was it too much to ask for a person to exhibit a little common courtesy? She hadn't changed a bit from the little monster she had been; no doubt the small thing she had produced was a carbon copy in that respect. "Yes, my heir. He's going to inherit my whole factory. I had to make sure it would go to someone who could deal with it properly, after all."

"Oh, you heir," Susan said, mangling the word all beyond recognition. Willy sighed, but didn't correct her. It wasn't her fault she was ignorant... or rather, it was, but it was to be expected. "And this doctor of yours, he thinks you need to talk to me?"

"My psychiatrist," Willy clarified. "He feels I haven't dealt with the issues between us during my childhood."

"You mean how I used to bully you and make you do anything I wanted?" Susan asked calmly.

Willy was stunned. His jaw dropped. "Yes, exactly." Why, he'd thought he would have to go to great lengths to entrap her in a sticky net of words until she was caught in a web of her own lies. Clearly she wasn't capable of evading even his most indirect questions. Unless that was what she wanted to think… but what could she hope to gain from pretending to be stupid? He frowned… maybe it was because she was a girl.

Girls, you really couldn't trust them. First they treat you like a friend, then they give you these wonderful kisses and pretty soon you're halfway in love with them, before you find out they're the owner of a rival candy company! If they weren't so beautiful they wouldn't get away with half of it. In fact, he had half a mind to charge up his elevator and head straight over to Derringer Chocolates and give her a piece of his mind… maybe she'd get angry and kiss him again. Images he had seen in Charlie's book flashed before his mind and he was simultaneously and violently attracted and repulsed at the same time.

"Willy!" Susan's voice penetrated his thoughts. He blinked and his eyes focused on her face. "Willy? Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, I was having a flashback," he replied woodenly.

"Yes, well, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for being such a brat. All children are cruel at that age, though I'm sure that's cold comfort for you. You didn't deserve to be bullied. I hope that helps."

A little dazed at obtaining his confession and apology with such ease, Willy almost didn't notice as Susan made her excuses and began ushering him out the door. "A PTA meeting tonight… a great deal of work to be done… sure you have a lot on your agenda today as well… so nice of you to stop by."

They paused at the door and he put his hat back on. Susan looked on expectantly and Megan entered the room, looking just as excited as before Willy had escaped from her. Really, that was a bit unnerving. "Yes, well… goodbye then… I'll send you a nice Christmas card and some chocolate."

"Oh no, Willy, we don't allow Megan to have chocolate," Susan said quickly. "We're trying to be healthy in this house.

Willy stared at her, aghast. Suddenly, all of his sympathies shifted from Susan to her poor, angelic daughter struggling to maintain her spirits in the face of this tyranny. "I see…"

"Yes, you know, candy is so bad for you," Susan continued, oblivious to his horror.

The Chocolatier found himself quite unable to form a cohesive sentence. Megan chose that moment to step forward. "Take my picture with you when you go, Uncle Wonka," she instructed, handing it over. "That's me, and that's my chocolate factory where I'm going to invent two new flavors every year."

"If you invent two new flavors each year, then I'll invent three new flavors each year!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

A buzzer sounded in the next room. "Oh, that's the laundry!" Susan rushed out of the room to check the clothing. As soon as she had left, Willy's gloved hand reached into his pocket and thrust a handful of assorted candies at the little girl. He generally kept at least a few on him somewhere and though he hated to deplete his stash, he knew it would be much easier for him to replace it than for his little niece to get a treat anywhere else. Of course, he was careful not to touch her in the process of delivering them.

Megan's eyes shone. "Thanks, Uncle Wonka!"

Willy grinned, tapping his cane against the brim of his had in salute. "I'll catch you on the flip side," he said, opening the door and stepping out into the fresh air. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and he felt happier than he had in a long time. And paradoxically, he wondered what Lauren was doing right now…

* * *

Lauren was in shock, not at all a natural state for her to be in. By her temperament, she possessed a very calm manner, not given to extremes of emotion and usually she regained her feet pretty quickly. This time she felt quite out of control. She wasn't quite melodramatic enough to go so far as to say her life was a lie, but she was definitely piqued to find that she had most certainly been lied to. It was not at all a pleasant experience, made more so by the fact that it all made a strange sort of sense.

Up until she was about seven years old, she had received monthly phone calls from a woman, her mother called her Aunt B and encouraged her to talk freely to her. Lauren had never questioned it, never even thought it strange. She had always had the impression that Aunt B was very old and perhaps lonely enough to try to connect to the niece she had never seen. Whenever Aunt B would call though, her parents would always get this tight, drawn look on their faces. This made her wonder if perhaps Aunt B was had done something her parents disagreed with. When she had gotten older, the phone calls had suddenly stopped and any questions she asked about Aunt B were met with the promise that she would be told when she was older. By the time she had reached an age to demand some answers, she had long since forgotten her curiosity and hadn't even thought much of the entire incident in over two decades. Now she found she could recall the soft, hesitant voice talking enthusiastically with her about Barbie dolls and stupid little boys who thought pulling hair was fun.

"All this time," Lauren said, she imagined the sound of her voice echoed in the empty apartment. The irony was contemptible. Surely she didn't deserve this kind of karma? All she had done was pretend to be a long-lost family member of an extremely close-knit group in order to steal valuable recipes from their benefactor…

Not for the first time, Lauren wished she had never heard of Willy Wonka. The Buckets, however, were not someone she wanted to do without. She pined for them, especially for Grandpa George, to a degree that she had not expected. It made it harder to bear, because though she had braced herself for the pain of being separated from Willy, she hadn't realized that being apart from her family would feel much the same. It was like an ache, or maybe an itch, and the temptation to throw caution to the wind and fly back to them was constant. She wondered if they would welcome her back in or slam the door in her face. For as long as she could remember, she had never been really afraid of anything. She had always believed that she could have anything she wanted if she tried hard enough. Now she found herself afraid to even try, because the pain of rejection would be so much worse than never knowing.

Unfortunately, she no longer had that option. She had told the Buckets that their daughter, sister, or aunt was dead. Yes, she had been estranged and, yes, they had halfway believed it true already, but her confirming their suspicions was insupportable. Lauren now realized that she had gone into this deception with her eyes wide shut. She had acknowledged the consequences for herself, legal and emotional, but had never thought beyond the pain the betrayal would cause her friends. For them to believe that Irene was dead was a wound she hadn't considered and that they didn't deserve. The Derringer in her said this would be painful, but Derringers didn't shrink from doing the hard jobs. The Zeigler, or maybe the Bucket, in her insisted that she must do what was right. She had never liked being in disagreement with herself, but she found that she disliked being of one mind even more. If Zeigler and Derringer ever merged into one unified goal, what would she be willing to sacrifice… her job, her dignity, her family? And if the two split again after that union, could she handle such losses?

Checking the clock, Lauren noted that unless she left in the next few minutes, she would be late for her dance class. She tabled her melancholy thoughts, since she had already made the decision anyway. Further debate was as unnecessary as it was redundant. She grabbed her bag and her shoes, strolled to the door, and made her way to her car. Tomorrow was a rare day off, one which she had taken for the specific purpose of meeting Irene Bucket at her rehabilitation facility. Her mother had some explaining to do.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**This is unedited by my betas because I sent it to them on Christmas day and none of them has gotten back to me yet. I know it's the Holidays, so I don't blame them for being busy. I just wanted to let you know that it may be edited later when I receive their input. Thanks!**

The feeling began as a subtle pressure just above her left breast. Her sleep-fogged brain didn't attach any particular significance to the touch. She sighed and reached up to bat at whatever was disturbing her. She encountered a hand… encased in rubber gloves. Lauren sat bolt upright, the nearby window just giving her enough light to make out Willy's sharp profile. His hand was pressed over the Derringer Chocolate's insignia tattooed, but it slid down easily to cup her breast through her nightshirt. She inhaled as he ran a thumb over the curve, his face more curious than aroused.

"Willy?" she whispered, and wondered why she was whispering in her own home.

"Lauren." He spoke at normal volume.

She didn't lean into his touch, but didn't move his hand away either. "What are you doing here?"

"Doing where?" Willy asked, perversity getting the better of him. "In America? In New York? In your apartment?" He pressed her back down and straddled her body in one easy motion. "In your bed?" This last was delivered in a lascivious whisper, the likes of which Willy shouldn't have known how to produce. The smell of chocolate surrounded her, eclipsing the citrus scent she preferred and Willy's hand began to trace her tattoo again.

"Let's start with 'in America' and work our way outward," Lauren replied, careful to avoid use of the word 'down' to end that sentence. Freudian slips were bad enough when they happened on sitcoms; to allow them to actually occur in real life was inexcusable.

"I came to see you, sugar plum," he said flippantly. He contrived to appear wounded.

A suspicious glare was aimed his way. Willy wasn't acting at all like himself. "Have you been dipping into the Luminous Lollies?" she asked suspiciously. Actually, that would explain a lot of his character traits… perpetually hungry, overly cheerful, prone to mood swings.

"I have not! Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." He looked so serious that she had to take him at his word.

"So to what do I owe the honor of your presence?" she had to ask again.

"Simple curiosity," he quickly supplied. Too quickly, but she didn't challenge it.

"And what are you curious about?"

Willy did not answer in words. His lips touched her gently, softly, as though he wasn't sure of his welcome. This kiss wasn't about power or dominance, but exploration. Lauren felt more relaxed than she had any right to with an uninvited intruder on top of her. Gloved hands stroked the side of her face like butterfly wings. She sighed and felt him echo her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew back. He peered into her face for a long time, but she couldn't imagine what he was looking for. Finally he moved to press chaste little kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, each temple, and one on her chin. He kissed the hollow of her throat and the flesh under her tattoo, but his intention couldn't have been to arouse, for each was close-mouthed and feather-light. Thus she was completely unprepared when she felt him suddenly grab her arms and pin them to the bed.

It was unlike him to be so aggressive, that was for sure. Lauren couldn't decide whether she should be threatened or not, but she was never one to present the other party with an advantage. "I don't mean to use a cliché, but you're playing with fire, Willy. I wanted you in this position for months. Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage of you?"

Willy's grin was flirtatious, his eyes un-shadowed and completely honest. "I'm not afraid of anything."

It was one of the few statements that he could make that could have ruined the moment so completely. Willy wasn't a liar, but he was always somewhat afraid, every moment of every day of his life. He feared everything from germs to love, to family, any attachment really, failure, and being alone. He was afraid of himself and afraid of not being himself, of losing everything he had gained and of gaining the one thing he still didn't have. Was it presumptuous of her to think she, his betrayer, knew him so well? Perhaps; but it was also the truth. A horrible sadness washed over her and she realized the what was going on. Arching her body up into his, she tried to imprint every sensation onto a hard copy in the back of her mind. "I wish this was real," she said. She was tired, so tired of wishing…

Willy smiled, his perfect teeth reflecting the streetlight. "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Lauren woke up.

"Damn, damn it all," she cursed loudly, staring at the rumpled white bedding and running a distracted hand through her hair. Why could she never at least get a good orgasm out of one of those dreams? She hated that they seemed so real, that one in particular. She had never actually had a conversation with her dream Willy before. Usually they proceeded directly to the ripping off of clothing and the kissing of places revealed by said clothing. Still, perhaps this was a sign that she was making progress. Talking with Willy in such an intimate setting still wasn't realistic, but it was far more realistic than him taking the lead in a sexual encounter. Even if he read that sex book that she'd left behind for Charlie, cover to cover, he probably still wouldn't be anywhere near ready to consummate their relationship… the one they didn't have.

Flopping back onto her bed, Lauren tried to remember why she was getting up today. Finally it struck her that today was the day that Irene Bucket was coming out of seclusion. She was clean, she was on a program, and if she stuck with it, she could actually come out of this deal better off than anyone else involved in the scheme. Of course, that was dependent on her providing Lauren with some answers. With a dissatisfied groan, Lauren pulled herself up and began to dress. First stop, Starbucks, then Saint Rita's Rehabilitation Center.

The trip there was unexceptional, though a bit congested traffic-wise. Finally she made it to the parking lot, where she spent ten minutes looking for an available space in Visitor's Parking. As the party who had admitted Irene Bucket into the facility, she was waved through the security checkpoint and shown to the small, white room that housed the woman she still couldn't quite believe was her mother. Lauren found herself unaccountably nervous, as she hadn't been when she'd first approached Irene. She knocked hesitantly.

"Come in," came the soft, yet firm accented voice.

Lauren twisted the knob and entered, brushing strands of hair back from her face. She smiled neutrally at her mother, but apparently there were still a few of those instincts left in Irene, because she wasn't fooled. "So, you've found out then?"

Pursing her lips, Lauren confirmed the question with a nod. "Yes, everything except why."

Irene looked surprised. "Darling, I'm an addict. I couldn't have kept you."

Confused for a moment, Lauren shook her head. "No, no, not why you gave me up. That I understand and agree with. I meant, why did you help me with all this? You knew who I was and what I was going to do, so why not tell the Buckets what was going on?"

Irene smiled, which made her look years younger. "You have to understand, it was just so ironic. I hadn't spoken to you for what, 20 years? Then you walk into the door, completely clueless, for all your confidentiality agreements and your talk of 'compensation' and suddenly I have an opportunity to get to know you again. Then, when I heard what you were planning, it was crazy. Half of me thought it wouldn't work anyway and the other half didn't care what you did to them. I was so resentful, not of anything they had done, but just angry with myself." She paused thoughtfully. "I had come to America to make a better life, you see, and had failed miserably. I was too ashamed to let them know what had happened to me, pregnant out of wedlock and addicted to drugs. I wanted to go home, but I knew I'd just be another mouth to feed. I hated them for holding me up to all these 'lofty ideals,' but deep down, I knew they'd love me just the same. Nothing I did would be enough for them to stop loving me, but I didn't think I deserved to be forgiven. So I hid, and I gave you up, and I didn't think anyone would ever find me." This long speech seemed to have upset her, because when she looked up, her eyes were wet. "Until you."

"So, you helped me with my story, gave me those pictures, to punish them?" Lauren asked, beginning to work it all out.

"Partially. And another part of me thought it might do you good to meet them. You're a hard woman, Lauren, but that's your strength. I wasn't hard enough, and look what happened to me. There's a time and a place for softness, but when that's all you have to show to the world, you only wind up hurt. I got hurt so badly, that I had to run away."

"Do you regret it now?" Lauren asked, honestly curious.

"In some ways, of course, but I don't regret giving you to Vivian and Charles. I knew they would keep you safe if you took after me and nurture your domineering spirit if you took after your grandfather. It's obvious which side you favor. What you have to decide is whether you'll be a conqueror or a protector. I thought that meeting your real family, especially Father, would help you make the right decision."

"And if I'm not very much mistaken, there was a perverse part of you that wanted them to meet me and approve. You wanted them to think you'd made something of your life."

Irene's eyebrows rose, but eventually she nodded. "Perhaps." She smirked, "Plus, your offer to get me into this place was a powerful lure. I've been working my way towards this for awhile, but when I was alone, it seemed so unattainable. I'm almost sixty, you know."

"Yes, I know." There was a pause. "So, what now?" Lauren asked.

"I think that's up to you."

Again there was a pause. "I guess you don't have any place to stay." Irene's shrug was acquiescence enough. "Then perhaps you'd agree to live with me for awhile."

She seemed to think about that, her heavily lined face pondering deeply. Finally she looked up and Lauren knew she'd get her way, if for no other reason then that Irene liked to give into her. "I'd be delighted."

* * *

They arrived on her doorstep heavily-laden, for Irene had had nothing but the clothes on her back when she'd been squirreled away by Lauren and her associates. Lauren furnished her with a good start on a new wardrobe and various toiletries, as well as a couple pairs of shoes. They'd picked up some Italian on the way home and now that they had finally arrived, there was the difficulty of setting everything down so that the door could be opened, and picking it all back up to take inside. By the time this exhausting feat was completed, Lauren had to call a time-out.

"All right, we're putting all this stuff away tomorrow," she declared, gesturing at the bags scattered all over the countertops and floor space in the kitchen.

"Agreed, I'm starving," Irene replied. She looked exhausted, and Lauren felt guilty for making her shop so soon after her convalescence ended.

"Irene, you should have told me how tired you were. We needn't have gotten all this stuff today." There was a muffled thump sounding from her bedroom. Lauren turned her head towards it, wondering if she'd left the window open and something had blown over.

"No, it's better to get it all done and have to make only one trip," she countered, smiling softly. "Now, come and eat some of this before it gets cold."

"Yes, _Mother_," Lauren replied, grinning slightly. She wondered that she wasn't more shaken up about all this. Here she was, discovering her long-hadn't-even-known-she-was-lost mother, and she was behaving as if it was all business as usual. Lauren had often heard people describe her as having ice in her veins. Perhaps that was true, or maybe the logic behind Irene's actions had assuaged her doubts and tempered her shock. She really didn't know. It could be that, after so many momentous events in her life recently, this one seemed merely anticlimactic by comparison.

"Speaking of Mother, and I know you're much too old to change your habits now, but what do you plan on calling me?" she asked. "I'm fine with Irene," she hastened to assure her daughter, "but if you did want to call me something else, that's all right as well. I realize I don't have the right to ask."

"I guess I am a bit old to be calling you Mommy," she said, grinning.

"**WHAT** did she say?!" The voice was decidedly masculine. There came the distinctive sound of someone clapping a hand over someone else's mouth.

Lauren jumped, stared at Irene, then scrambled to her feet and headed towards the bedroom. Irene followed, her expression afire with curiosity. Lauren flung open the door, switching the lights on a second later. The room was crowded with people, all whom blinked at the sudden light.

Irene stepped past Lauren, eyes narrowed. "Father, Mother," she nodded at Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina. "James."

"What are you all doing here?" Lauren asked, almost unable to comprehend this new development. This kind of thing didn't happen in real life. This only happened on Soap Operas and in really bad romance novels. In fact, last week on All My Children, Babe's family had stumbled in on her and her long-lost mother… or was it her sister, and her husband stumbled onto them? Or was it her husband's twin brother? Lauren abandoned the attempt to straighten out the storyline in favor of listening to her family's explanation.

"I climbed in the window and unlocked it for the rest of them," Charlie proclaimed solemnly.

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'why' than the exact mechanics of the situation," Lauren replied. It was unlike Charlie to be so serious, but then, this was a rather unlikely scenario. "Why don't you all come into the living room and sit down? We can discuss this like rational people."

"I'm not feeling very rational," George said, but it was more crotchety than malevolent.

Lauren shrugged. "All the more reason." She motioned them all out, leaving only Irene and Georgina in the room. "Did you two-,"

"We'll be fine for a moment, dear," Irene said absently. Lauren nodded and withdrew.

She entered her living room to find all of the Buckets seated in a line facing the single armchair. George sat on the couch next to James, who was next to Emma, who was next to Charlie. Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine were sharing the loveseat. Lauren nervously took her seat, feeling like she was before the executioner's squad.

There was a long pause in which everyone just looked at each other. "So…" Lauren said, raising her eyebrows, "coffee?"

"No, thank you, dear," Emma said, smiling hesitantly.

"Is that all you can say?" George asked, his glare peeking out from beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Lauren averted her eyes, fastening them on Charlie's troubled young face. "That, and breaking and entering is a crime."

George scowled horribly. "So call the constabulary."

"That was an observation, not a threat," she said coolly, determined to control herself during this encounter. "I hadn't expected these tactics."

"Thought you were the only one who was willing to break the law in this family?" James asked softly, but there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice.

"Actually, yes," Lauren replied. "But that was before I knew I was a member of your family."

"You expect us to believe that you and Irene didn't cook up this whole scheme together? Was betraying our family and breaking Willy's heart worth the quick buck you made?" James asked harshly.

"If you're referring to the 6.5 million dollars that has been generated in just these few short months, then no. I never would have risked so much for so little. I deceived you because my company would have gone under if I hadn't gotten some fresh ideas. It was a matter of lifestyle or death." She gestured around the room, "And my lifestyle is very important to me."

James looked disgusted and Emma gave her a disappointed look. "As if money is more important than family," he said harshly.

"Yes, well, if you'll remember, I didn't have any family before I started all of this," Lauren said, beginning to get angry herself. "What do you want me to say?"

"We want you to say you're sorry," Grandpa Joe interjected, gently but intensely.

Lauren's gaze turned frosty. "Derringers do not apologize."

The bedroom door opened and Grandma Georgina entered, followed by Irene. "But you're not a Derringer, Lauren," her mother reminded her.

Unfortunately, she had a point. Lauren scowled; her mother was supposed to be on her side! She decided to bite the bullet, if for no other reason than to end the uncomfortably pregnant silence. "I do… regret some of my actions, especially my lies about Irene. At the time, they seemed justified. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about what it would mean for you."

"You didn't think about what it would mean for Georgina to hear her only daughter had died?" George asked angrily. "How could you be so selfish?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a pretty selfish person," Lauren shot back, gesturing at her opulent surroundings.

"Why do you say things like that?" Charlie asked quietly. The room grew quiet in the wake of his question. "Do you think we'll stop loving you if you're bad enough?"

Lauren refused to meet anyone's eyes, gazing about the room as everyone fixed their attention on her. "I'm trying to be honest here. You may not want to admit it, but I am extremely self-centered, not to mention inhumanly stubborn. I want my own way and I have enough personality and money to get it most of the time. As egotistic as I am though, I also love you guys. I feel like a part of the family. I don't want to lose that."

"You don't have to. You can come back with us," Charlie said eagerly.

"I wish it were that simple."

An awkward silence descended again, during which Emma stood up and smiled uncertainly at Lauren. "Why don't we go make a nice pot of tea for everyone? Can you show me where you keep everything?"

Standing quickly, Lauren nodded. "Of course." She was more than eager for a chance to escape the situation gracefully, at least for a little while. They retreated to the kitchen and Irene took her place in the hot seat.

"So, is the tea in the closet then?" Emma asked, puttering happily. In the other room, murmurs were heard in response to something or other Irene had said.

"Um, yes. Top shelf," Lauren replied. She began to fill the teakettle.

"So, you're in love with Willy then?" Emma began, conversationally.

Lauren froze, her hand on the canister, but recovered quickly. "And if I am?"

Emma shrugged as she removed the tin from her niece's hand. "I just think it's a shame that two people who care so much for each other should be apart because of something so silly."

"James doesn't seem to think it's silly," Lauren pointed out, keeping her emotions carefully in check. Her father's voice came back to her… 'Don't let them see you flinch. Once they know you're afraid, it's all over.'

Emma was smiling, shaking her head with exasperation. "It's amazing how alike he and his father are. I know he acts like his mother most of the time, but when it comes to holding grudges, he's George all over. He's already forgiven you, of course, but he won't be able to let it go so easily. And George, for all his bluster, has mellowed with age. Before we got here he was stomping about shouting that you were a Bucket, weren't you, and how family is family. You were his granddaughter and he didn't care about any of this chocolate nonsense."

Lauren smirked, but hid it carefully. "And what about you?" she couldn't help but ask.

For once, Emma didn't have an answer at the ready. She paused thoughtfully as she arranged a tea tray. "I believe in love. It has gotten me through more heartache and doubt than I care to name. I believe Willy is in love with you, in his own way, and I can't think of anyone who suits him more."

"But that was Lauren Ziegler, the schoolgirl. I'm Lauren _Derringer_, the competition."

"Haven't you wondered how you managed to slip into that role so easily, not that you ever acted so much like a schoolgirl?" Emma smiled, "Maybe you've more Ziegler, or more Bucket, in you than you thought."

Lauren raised a challenging eyebrow. "I have more Derringer in me than you'd like you'd like to believe, I think. But, this conversation seems moot, considering Willy would never give me a second chance."

Shaking her head softly, Emma picked up the tray. "Rubbish, all you need is a really good plan. You'll come up with something, I'm sure."

Lauren couldn't help but be buoyed by Emma's confidence in her. Then again, she had come up with a pretty spectacular scheme to enter Willy's fortress, so perhaps her confidence wasn't as misplaced as it seemed. Unbidden, ideas began to slither into her head and take root. She pushed them aside to concentrate on the business at hand. For once, she was putting her family first. There was time enough for all this love nonsense later. She followed her aunt into the room where her mother was being interrogated, though she looked surprisingly comfortable. Once more, into the fray…


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

**Well, it's been two weeks and my Betas haven't got back to me, so here's the update, unbeta-ed but hopefully understandable. From the amount of time it took me to post this, you guess how difficult it was to write. I'm still not sure it came off the way I wanted it to, and originally I meant to end the last interlude with something a little more... intimate, but I decided you guys had waited enough. Thank you for your inhuman patience!**

The Buckets left at midnight, which was much, much later in England. Though they were all drooping from exhaustion, Charlie managed to give a very energetic wave as they all sped away. Lauren turned back to her empty apartment, as Georgina had decided to take her wayward daughter home with her. She was amazed that they'd managed to fit everyone into the six by six foot elevator, let alone her mother's baggage, emotional and physical. Though Lauren was disappointed that Irene had left so soon, she was also grateful to have a bit more time to process the whole thing. Besides, Emma's words to her in the kitchen had knocked loose another avalanche of inspiration in Lauren's mind. Already devious plans were being examined, altered, and discarded in favor of more practical and even more devious plans.

Lauren retired to her bedroom with a pad of paper and pen. First of all, did she really want to do this? She scribbled a definite 'yes' onto the top of the page. Despite all of the difficulties and misunderstandings that would no doubt, **no doubt, **arise from the relationship, she couldn't imagine giving up on him. He was worth it. That decided, now she needed a plan, a very good one, and it had to involve her talking with him face to face. She wrote the words 'in person' under 'yes.' She needed to show him that she was sorry, but she definitely wasn't going to come to him as a supplicant. She imagined Willy smiling smugly at her as she asked for his forgiveness and then slamming the door in her face. There was no way she was walking up to those huge, intimidating iron gates and begging for entrance like some kind of destitute vagrant. That wasn't the Derringer style. She felt physically incapable of approaching from a position of weakness. If she were to be herself, as she must if they were to have any chance together, then they needed to be on equal footing. Both would make compromises to reach a mutually agreeable settlement, Business 101. Now she needed to come up with something unusual, something that would surprise him completely.

She quickly began sketching on the pad, randomly and found herself trying to recall the details of Willy's usual mode of dress. Say what you will, the man had style. It wouldn't be difficult to modify… With the sketch came the glimmerings of a plot, which quickly gained form and functionalism. She planned out the method of delivery and tried to think of an appropriate occasion. Lauren fell asleep somewhere between altering the neckline and imagining the look on his face. For the first time in weeks she didn't dream at all.

* * *

The next week was a busy one for Lauren. As though she didn't have enough on her plate with business booming, and the board threatening to throw her a surprise party, she was trying to get everything together for her assault on Willy's factory. She'd already had to hire an assistant for Sarah and wasn't far away from hiring an assistant for the assistant. Nevertheless, she somehow managed to get most of the new products delegated to the appropriate departments and cleared a lot of the paperwork off her desk. She wished she had more time to make sure things were running more smoothly before she took another leave of absence, but Willy's birthday was in two days. She was left to seize the opportune moment or she wait until Christmas for another excuse.

Not an option.

Lauren pressed the button on her console, and spoke into the speaker. "Sarah, could you step in here for a second?"

"I'll be right in," she replied, sounding a bit harried.

Lauren frowned. It wasn't usual for Sarah to be overwhelmed. She was a pillar of strength, normally. Maybe the workload was getting to be too much for her? She glanced up as the door opened and Sarah peeked in. "Sarah, do you want another assistant?" Lauren asked with concern.

She shook her head and smiled, "No, no, of course not. I'm just a bit frazzled from making sure all of your deliveries came in on time. Your deadline was very specific and with the amount of money you're throwing at these people, they shouldn't be having so many difficulties."

"I'm sorry about that; by the way, I know it was more personal than business, but there was no way I could make all of those calls and finish up the paper-pushing, and get the product lines sorted out," Lauren said apologetically. "I really appreciate it and you're definitely getting a raise."

Sarah laughed, "I wouldn't think of objecting."

"I hope not," Lauren replied. "If you don't deserve it, I don't know who does."

"I couldn't agree more," she said with a smile.

The day passed pretty quickly after that, likely due to all of the nervous energy she had stored up. Tomorrow she was leaving for England and everything had to be perfect, yet it was all coming together so smoothly that she couldn't even obsess over the project properly. She even got most of her paperwork finished by five. Bereft of anything to work on or anyone to yell at, Lauren went home for an early dinner and, to her surprise, practically fell into bed.

When she woke the next morning it was, somewhat unexpectedly, to a new clarity of purpose. She had had another dream, of course, but for the first time ever, she had dreamed of Willy not in a dominant sexual role, but in a thoroughly submissive one. It was as though a veil had been lifted from between herself and her true desires. She could admit the truth to herself now: she wanted to control him, utterly and completely, to hold him down as he struggled against her in the throes of passion. She wanted to see his face when he realized that he had lost all control to her, and then she wanted to lose control herself.

She wondered if that made her a bad person, practically salivating over taking someone's virginity. There had to be something wrong with her, because she had never had an urge to ravish a man before. Shouldn't she be feeling some sort of masculine testosterone explosion instead of this rush of primitive femininity? Lauren sighed as she crawled out of bed; it figured that her passionate-yet-comfortably-vanilla sex drive would turn kinky just as she fell in love with virgin who was afraid of skin to skin contact. She eventually decided to blame pheromones, which took all culpability off her hands, placing it squarely in the lap of evolution.

Lauren dressed quickly, still meditating on the dream, in a pair of comfortable designer sweats. She pulled a brush through her short blond hair, grabbed her carry-on, and slung her purse over her shoulder. A pair of sunglasses completed the outfit, and she took the elevator to the private parking garage. Two minutes later, she was in a limousine headed to the airstrip. Thirty minutes after that, _The Derringer _was on its way to a small runway in northern England where everything was in place, awaiting only her arrival. She smiled with satisfaction. She did so love having money, and power, and a very, very good plan.

* * *

The warehouse she arrived at was chilly, but the back room was warm enough. Her costume was waiting for her, pressed and shined to perfection. Even the buttons gleamed. Marveling at the colors and precisely tailored fabrics, she began to carefully dress herself. Whoever had made it had done an exceptional job; of course, she had also paid an exceptional amount of money for it. Lauren buttoned her vest, pinned her silver 'DC' pin just beneath her throat, and settled her black top hat over her blonde hair. She slipped on her shoes, spritzed on some chocolate-scented perfume, and applied a coating of licorice-red lipstick. She blew a kiss at her reflection and headed for the door. On her way out, she scooped up the purple scarf she had knitted for Willy so long ago.

"My carriage awaits," she muttered, adjusting her blue latex gloves.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Willy, Happy Birthday to yooooooou!" the Buckets sang, happily in-tune. Willy smiled hugely and blew out the candles on his cake with a small hand-held fan.

"Did you make a wish?" Charlie asked excitedly.

"I wouldn't forget something that important," Willy exclaimed. "But I can't tell you what it is-"

"-Or else it won't come true," Charlie finished. "I know."

"Good, then let's eat," Grandpa George suggested, none-too-politely.

"Willy, you get the first piece," Mrs. Bucket said, slicing a generous hunk of the Sextuple Chocolate Cream Cake, Charlie's own invention. "Charlie, you may have the second," she said sweetly, then handed the third to Grandpa George. When everyone had a slice, they all sat back to watch Willy open his presents.

He received a balloon-animal kit from James and Emma, the Sextuple Chocolate Cake Recipe from Charlie, and a pile of monogrammed silk handkerchiefs from the Grandparents. Then they all went outside to watch the special birthday dance that the Oompa Loompas had composed in Willy's honor. The party wound down around eight o'clock and Willy wished everyone a pleasant evening. Twirling his cane, he strolled through the Chocolate Room and towards a well-earned rest.

He was nearly to his door when a tug on his trousers brought him up short. He bent down, allowing the Oompa Loopan to whisper in his ear. His eyes widened, then narrowed. He faced the little man. "And you just put it in my room?" The pygmy made a helpless gesture. "Well, it could be a Slughorn plot!" Another gesture, this one more meaningful, "Just because his company doesn't exist anymore, doesn't mean he isn't plotting!" Willy insisted, pouting. He hated it when they used logic against him. "I'll take care of this myself," he announced, striding through the door and closing it firmly behind him.

He stood staring at the huge package that had been left for him just inside the gates of the factory It was wrapped in purple paper and tied with a big red bow, apparently having been lifted over the wall by a small crane. Why his Oompa Loompas had decided to bring this Trojan horse into his inner sanctum, he did not know, but he didn't trust it one bit! He turned the three foot tag over and read the block print label: TO: WILLY WONKA ON HIS BIRTHDAY.

That was definitely suspicious… and why did he smell oranges? He reached out and pulled the handle on the side of the crate-like present. Whatever he had been expecting, a hungry tiger, a swarm of wang-doodles, a cloud of poisonous gas, or even an avalanche of tangerines ready to crush him to death, it definitely wasn't-

"Lauren?" Willy asked, his voice soft and confused, as if he did not quite believe that she was really there.

"Happy Birthday," she said seriously. "I hope I'm not too late."

"No…" He stared at her, completely at a loss. "What are you doing here?"

Lauren smiled, a kind, gentle smile, completely devoid of maliciousness. "I'm your birthday present." She stood up and stepped out of the crate. Her soft shoes whispered as she crossed the space between them, stopping only when she was close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. "Aren't you going to unwrap me?"

Her tone was seductive and Willy had no defense against it. He sucked in a sharp breath at the invitation in her voice and shuddered. His hands fisted at his side, latex scraping together with a low squeak. He closed his eyes and his father's voice came out of his mouth. "This is nonsense."

Lauren laughed, soft and sensuously. It washed over Willy like the ocean, and for a second he felt like he was drowning. "A little nonsense now and then is treasured by the wisest men." He opened his eyes at the feeling of something brushing his eyelashes. Obviously she had fallen back on his old game, but this time she was the aggressor. He held his breath as she placed her hands over his face, a hair's breadth away from touching him, tracing his jaw with fingertips that never connected with flesh.

He had done it to her so many times, but he had never imagined it had felt like this. She might as well have been stroking his face, for it received the same reaction. His body responded to her like a flower to the sun. He strained towards her hands and only his pride kept him from her arms. "How can I trust you?" he whispered, his eyes heavy lidded despite the fact that he had never felt more awake in his entire life. "You lied to me."

"I may have lied, but I've never betrayed you," she said in a tone as low as his. "And I never will." Her eyes met his, violet and blue colliding, but not violently this time. His hands formed a will of their own, gripping her hips and yanking her against him. They both gasped, he in surprise and she in pleasure.

His cheek pressed against hers, he spoke slowly, frustration evident in his voice. "I want-" He seemed unable to finish the sentence. "I want… to be close you." Another, longer pause this time, his tone was one of hopelessness and fear. "I just don't know how-"

"I know how," she interrupted, her hands stroking upwards.

"Oh!" The sound was more an exclamation of pleasure than an indication of understanding. Her gloved hands ran across his chest, unbuttoning what they could reach and smoothing over what they could not unbutton. His breathing increased, partly from fear and partly from something he could not put a name to. Not only had he never felt like this before, he had never conceived of feeling like this. It was so unexpected and so shockingly good that he was completely overwhelmed. His hands tightened their grip on her hips, not knowing what else to do with them. The book had explained in great detail about foreplay and such, but he found the words vanishing from his mind, like water down a drain.

Lauren's hands, inversely, hadn't stopped moving once. Mostly it was just touching over his clothes, probably to get him used to the feeling. It wasn't bad, in fact the feeling of fear was fading a bit. It was almost soothing, except he was much too on edge to be soothed. He didn't even break away when she slid her hands around his hips and down his thighs, raking her fingers back up. Rather than continuing her caresses though, he was surprised into pulling away by her sliding hands under his jacket and slipping it off his shoulders. He released her in confusion and she pulled the coat off, leaving it on the floor as she shrugged off her own.

Willy backed up, the fear coming back when he saw himself actually shedding clothing. Lauren had a heady look in her eyes though, wild and unpredictable; she followed him. His back hit a wall and she pressed against him further. Hip to hip, mouth to mouth, he shuddered and tried not to let his legs buckle. She released the last button, ripping his vest open to reveal his paisley shirt. "Lauren," he managed to gasp out, and she seemed to come back to herself long enough to note the apprehension in his eyes.

He thought they would stop, or at least slow down, but quite suddenly he felt a hand close over him in a place that no one had ever touched before. He felt himself almost convulse and he threw his head back so hard that he actually hit the wall. Breathing became not just difficult, but laborious. "Oh!" he gasped. Lips fastened themselves to his exposed neck and his eyes closed to concentrated on sensation. "My!" he purred as the hand stroked delicately through the cloth.

"God, I want you so much," Lauren murmured as she kissed her way to his ear.

"The way you wanted me… in your office," he panted, trying to stay upright and move closer while wiggling away.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, which unfortunately prevented her from effectively continuing her assault on his neck. She stopped nodding immediately. "The way I've always wanted you. Every night, sleeping in Charlie's bed, I was wanting you, just the way you are now." She squeezed slightly.

He couldn't breathe! He couldn't move! He stood there and shuddered, his entire body rocking back and forth against her in time to her touch. With the pleasure, came the fear. Rocketing through his body, washing over the sensations, then pulling back again. At any given time he could be too afraid or too intrigued to pull away. The inability to anchor himself was driving his pulse up and his body instinctively froze in place, trying to block out all stimuli.

At his sudden tensing, Lauren pulled back completely, a look of dismay washing over her face. "Willy?" she called softly, gazing worriedly into his unfocused eyes. "are you all right?" She reached out a gloved hand and touched his face. He flinched, but at least he met her eyes.

"What?" he asked, breathing hard. His voice was confused whisper. She felt positively perverse for wanting him even when he was so weak, so much in her power.

"Nothing," she said, withdrawing from him slightly. "Take your time." She smiled to show she wasn't disappointed, for she could see the frustration and fear in his eyes. It must be difficult, to want something so intimately connected to something one was so obviously afraid of.

Her gaze traveled around the room as she consciously suppressed her atavistic impulses. How could she be expected to think of what was best for Willy when the only thing running through her head was what she wanted to do to him? Would it be better for her to put off tonight with Willy? Would waiting now help him adjust, or scare him away from her forever? She wasn't a psychiatrist, damn it! She really didn't feel qualified to be making these kinds of decisions!

A gloved hand closed around hers, interrupting her racing thoughts. She glanced up and caught purple eyes brimming with fear and shame. "I'm sorry," he squeaked, and Lauren felt her heart ache for him. It was discomforting to feel lust one moment and compassion the next. She tore her eyes away before he could read pity in them.

She squeezed his hand gently. "It's not your fault. I rushed you… I practically ambushed you, actually. We'll go slower next time."

Note to self: guerilla seduction bad idea.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

**Thanks to all my readers and my awesome Betas! Here is the lemon you've all been waiting for with such breathless anticipation. I really hope you think it's worth it.**

"No, there must be a way," Willy muttered, eyes closed with his head tilted back, his expression set in a pout. Lauren wanted to sink her teeth into his throat. She looked away from him, wrestling down the Amazon warrior that had hijacked her libido. Was this how Xena felt all the time? It was purely by chance that her eyes, seeking to avoid Willy's body (i.e. temptation), fell upon the open door at the opposite end of the room.

Inspiration hit her across the head with a brick. Lauren was surprised when she didn't stagger. "Willy? Is that your bathroom?"

He glanced up, confused. "Umm…yes."

"And you only get upset when you think germs might touch your skin,"

she mused aloud.

"Lauren…?"

Inspiration followed up its head-strike with a kick to the stomach. "Willy, when is it okay for you to take off your clothes?"

Now he was getting it. In fact, he let her pull him to his feet and towards with bathroom without needing her to explain the idea any further. Of course, she was expecting a nice separate shower, maybe a Jacuzzi). Instead she found Willy's own private spa. The man had more beauty products than Mary Kay! The place was gleaming white marble and the shower alone was an 8 foot square. Jets were everywhere and there was even a huge (presumably) waterproof padded bench in the center where a person could rest while being massaged from every angle.

"Why don't I have one of these?" Lauren asked enviously.

"I designed it myself," Willy replied, peeking through the glass doors at her. "I use the same sort of machine for painting chocolate eggs.

"Oh, the cleverness of you." He looked nervous, and she noticed he was clasping his hands to keep them steady. "Don't worry," she told him, turning on the spigots to mid-high heat. She gently removed Willy's hand, pressed a kiss into his palm, and backed away from him towards the shower entrance. "It won't hurt."

"So I've read," Willy said with obvious apprehension. "I notice you didn't say 'I don't bite'."

"I'm not going to lie to you," Lauren said, in all seriousness. "I bite quite a lot." Then she allowed the corners of her lips to tilt upward as she reached for the buttons on her shirt. One by one they came undone. Willy's eyes followed the trail of flesh her shirt revealed even as steam began to billow out of the shower. She toed off her and socks, then noticed Willy's hand reaching for the ventilator switch. "Do you think high visibility will make this easier for you?" she asked pointedly. His hand hesitated, then returned to his side. She stripped off her gloves and then removed the shirt, her hands reaching for the buttons on her slacks.

They joined the little pile of clothes on his bathroom floor, along with her top-hat and jewelry. Her purple bra had a stylized 'W' on the right hip and the clasp between her breasts, inches from her 'Derringer Chocolates' tattoo. It stood for Windsor, but what Willy didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Lauren gave her companion an appraising glance; Willy seemed way beyond asking questions at this point anyway.

His mouth was slightly open and his breathing was heavier than usual. He was also sweating just a bit. Lauren had never seen him sweat before, and it was thoroughly satisfying. She moved closer, hips swaying, and was gratified when he didn't back away. "Aren't you a bit over-dressed for a shower?" she asked archly, deftly removing his pin from beneath his throat and setting it aside.

His eyes were fixed on her breasts, which Lauren couldn't help but find endearing. It was the first time he'd ever really been in a position to actually see a pair, so she supposed she could forgive him his preoccupation. Her hands moved to the clasp and flicked it open, Willy's eyes darkened until the irises threatened to disappear. The bra slithered to the ground and Lauren watched Willy carefully lest he suddenly faint.

Instead, he reached out a hand and took her own, pulling her close. One latex-covered finger rose to rest against her throat. With extreme care, he drew his hand down, between her breasts, and then back up to trace the contours of her company's initials. He did not so much as gaze any other part of her chest. The steam was curling between them now and Lauren spared a brief thought for the water they were wasting. She needed to hurry this up because it was environmentally insensitive, not because she was near a sexual frustration-induced explosion! With that in mind, she gently removed Willy's hand, pressed a kiss into his palm, and backed away from him towards the shower entrance. Just before his startled face disappeared in the steam, she beckoned him forward. She also took the liberty of divesting herself of that last bit of purple fabric.

* * *

Willy watched as Lauren moved away from him and tried not to stare too

obviously at her chest. The tips of her breasts were different from the pictures in the Book. Those had been dark brown, large, and strangely intimidating. Lauren's were pink, and relatively small; if he'd been just a shade less terrified out of his mind, he'd have mustered up the courage to touch them.

Willy hated mustard. It was the Boo Radley of condiments.

With shaking fingers, Willy managed to unbutton his shirt and peeled

off his gloves. Setting his cufflinks aside, he stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks. His belt was laid cautiously on the floor, lest the buckle clang when it fell. The black slacks he wore joined the rest of his clothing. Only his briefs remained, black with purple thread. "Quick, like a band-aid," he muttered under his breath. Eyes firmly closed, he yanked them off and kicked them self-consciously behind the sink. Grateful beyond measure for the concealing fog, he screwed up his nerve and walked into the shower.

"Lauren?" he called softly, relaxing slightly as the spray hit him. He pulled the door shut and felt the air thicken even more--if that were possible. He wondered if she would think he was handsome, although he knew he looked almost completely different from the man in The Book. Doubt assailed him and he had to fight not to flee

"Have a seat, Willy," Lauren's voice said from the far side. Nervously, he complied, finding his way to the bench situated exactly five steps from the shower entrance. He could feel the germs rinsing off his body and slipping into the drain. He smiled as he sat down, but it was an uncertain, fleeting expression. "Think of this as an adventure," her voice instructed. He whipped his head towards the sound and could just make out her outline. "Imagine you're looking for a new flavor for candy; this is just one new place to explore. Maybe it will help."

Surprisingly, when she put it like that, it was easier. He'd explored much more dangerous places than this before. Of course, he'd had clothes on then. Immediately he became self-conscious; he felt a blush spreading across his face as he averted his eyes and shifted on the bench. He heard Lauren move to stand in front of him. She firmly tilted his chin up, and he met her eyes. He was expecting a smirk or a sympathetic look, but instead she wore the expression he had first seen in the Inventing Room, the day she left.

He had no time to brace himself before she kissed him, passionately, almost violently. He stood, trying to fix the angle more comfortably. He felt awkward, as though he couldn't keep up, and he couldn't figure out where to put his hands. The Book had mentioned instinct often, but Willy felt about as instinctual about sex as he did about dentistry.

Great, he was kissing the woman he loved, who just happened to be naked, and he was thinking of his father!

He broke off the kiss, intending to apologize for his ineptness, but Lauren's lips fastened on to his neck. It felt good; she bit the side of his throat delicately and he corrected himself. It felt wonderful, incredible, sublime. Even the idea of saliva touching his neck wasn't enough to faze him, especially as the warm water washed it away moments later. Her hands were gripping the back of his head and clutching at his shoulder, pulling them close enough to each other for him to feel her breasts against his chest. He hesitantly folded his arms around her, running one hand up and down her spine experimentally.

She shuddered satisfactorily, and he felt a bit more confident about this whole thing. Then he noticed that a certain part of his anatomy was becoming extremely interested in the proceedings. When he had read about this in the book, he had difficulty believing it could actually happen to him. The idea that a part of his body could become hard enough to thrust into someone was almost too ludicrous. Learning that the process was involuntary was downright frightening. He froze, and Lauren immediately stopped kissing his sternum to give him a curious look. He might have called it dangerous had he been in any state to notice such things.

"Willy." She called his name. He tried to focus on her and not his traitorous body. "Willy?" He heard her voice, seeming to come from miles away.

He shook his head, taking a half-step back. "I don't think I can do this. I'm sorry."

Her eyes blazed and for a moment he thought she might attack him. While his body thrummed with excitement at the idea, his mind shied away from the thought. "Willy, stop thinking," she ordered.

"How?" he asked plaintively, wondering if he could make a break for it. Later it occurred to him that he shouldn't have allowed himself to become distracted. It was almost embarrassing that she was able to pull the same trick twice in the same hour. A slick, warm hand closed about him and he gasped, almost inhaling a lungful of water. She ran her hand along the length of him, and all rational thought left his mind. He clutched at her desperately as she stroked ever so slowly. He felt as though he were boiling. Heat flashed through him so quickly that it was a wonder the water didn't evaporate where it hit him. How could anything feel so good and not have anything to do with chocolate?

He could feel sensations taking over his body and, miracle of miracles, instinct actually did raise its head. Pun intended. He kissed her, and although she easily dominated him, he welcomed her tongue thrusting into his mouth. When she pulled away to run her tongue over his nipple, he allowed his hands to close over her breasts. She made a sound between a moan and a gasp, which was gratifying, considering every other word out of his mouth was her name. He had planned on being more eloquent, on telling her how much he loved her, or at least managing a compliment. The book had emphasized that vocalization was important and expected from partners. Lauren didn't seem to mind though, and she was much more experienced in this department than he was. Maybe talking wasn't as important at this stage as he had been led to believe.

"I think this bench is wide enough," she muttered. He would have agreed with her if she'd said Slughorn was a really stand-up guy. Willy felt himself pressed down onto the bench and she released him long enough to position herself over him. Her eyes were alight with lust and he felt he must be mirroring it back at her, because it seemed he had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted this strange, dizzying desire to be satisfied.

Lauren remained poised above him, readying herself when he placed one fine-boned hand on her hip. She paused, and he wet his lips despite the water cascading over them. "I don't want to disappoint you." He wondered if the world stopped, or if it just felt that way to him.

"Oh, Willy," she said, leaning down to press an oddly innocent kiss to his lips. "That would be quite impossible."

"The Book said there was a way-," he stuttered to a halt, unaware of a single way to phrase the request that wouldn't be completely mortifying. "Could I try?"

To his relief, she seemed to understand. Breathing a sigh of relief, he pulled her down for another kiss. His hand crept down her stomach, hesitated briefly, and then gently stroked upward. She sighed against his lips, broke the kiss, and closed her eyes. A moment later her hand closed over his, guiding his efforts. Finding the spot he was looking for wasn't as difficult to find as he had thought it might be; his hands had always been sensitive. He ran his thumb over it, just to be sure, and was rewarded by a soft cry from Lauren. He looked up at her as she hovered over him. Her makeup had washed off, and her hair was plastered to her scalp. She was biting her lower lip, and her brow was furrowed in concentration. She was so beautiful that he could actually feel himself reacting to the sight of her alone. The feelings of pressure and heat intensified; he had to stop himself from pressing into her, especially since he wasn't sure exactly how this was going to work.

Putting that from his mind, he touched her once again--more confidently now, and she shuddered. He moved faster, increased the pressure, his whole attention wrapped up in her reactions. Her hips moved against him, and he experienced a rush of power. Then her eyes flew open. He gasped at the heat in her gaze. "Lauren?"

"No more talk," she said hoarsely, yanking his hands away from her and pinning them to his side. He nodded, wondering if he was allowed to do that even. What if he had to sneeze? What if he sneezed and inhaled water and needed help? He fought panic. A second later he forgot about everything.

She rose above him and he didn't even have time to panic before she was sliding down onto him, her head thrown back in ecstasy. It was the most incredible feeling! He was connected to Lauren in a way he had never thought possible. The Book had used words like 'pleasure' and 'satisfaction' when words like 'transcendent' and 'breathtaking' would have been more appropriate. He was overwhelmed once more by the sense of this huge force building inside of him until it erupted, carrying him away from himself yet still tangled up with Lauren. He saw lights behind his tightly closed eyes and he wondered if this was how it felt to die. It was just letting go…

Willy came crashing back down a moment later, when the haziness cleared and some kind of rational thought again became possible. For a moment he wondered if he could ever reproduce that with a candy before tucking that idea away for another time. He didn't want to open his eyes. He knew he couldn't have held out very long, and some instinct told him that she had not reached the same peak that he had. Willy risked a peek to find her breathing heavily, obviously unsatisfied, and he felt the momentary urge to just give up. Her hand closed over his though, and he found the courage to meet her eyes.

"Willy, it was wonderful," she said, her face smiling even as her gaze scorched him with its intensity. He was still inside her, and the idea of leaving her for even a moment was anathema.

"It was amazing," he said, and some of the awe must have been in his voice, because she smiled brilliantly. "But you didn't-" again the word wouldn't roll off his tongue. "You didn't."

"This was the first time, Willy. We'll get better with practice."

"Would you mind if I… tried again?" he asked, his voice small.

Lauren leaned down to press a chaste kiss on his lips. "Of course not, Willy. You may touch me any way you like, any time you like." She frowned for a moment, "As long as we're alone, of course."

"Of course," Willy agreed hurriedly. "But could I try again now?"

"Willy, it will be a while before you can go again. You need to… recharge," Lauren said delicately.

"But I could try another way…" He gave up trying to explain himself and kissed her lightly, almost fearfully. She smiled against his lips, then attacked his mouth with her tongue. He made a sound, something like a moan as she tangled her fingers in his wet hair. He found that involuntary actions weren't as frightening as he thought they would be. He pulled her up so that she was straddling his stomach, breaking the kiss with great reluctance. "It's an adventure," he chanted in a near-silent whisper. "An adventure." He placed a chaste kiss on her right breast, running his fingers gently over the other and gazing anxiously at her face for a reaction.

It couldn't have been more positive. Her left arm braced her bodyover his and her right hand pressed his mouth closer to her. "Willy," she murmured, and he opened his mouth to taste her skin for the first time. The texture was unusual, but not unpleasant. She tasted clean and slightly sweet, not at all like he had expected. The warm water was like a cocoon around them as he began to apply suction, trying not to gloat too obviously at the appreciative sounds she was making. His hand fell to her hip as she began to press herself against his stomach, obviously in need of further stimulation. More confident, this time his hand slid down to touch her more intimately. She gasped as he found that certain spot and pressed slightly, settling into a rhythm as Lauren's breathing became more and more labored. He was about to try actually entering her with a single slim digit, when she seemed to stiffen slightly, inhaling sharply and pressing a final furious kiss against his mouth.

"You're amazing," she said, her voice sounding extremely contented.

Willy fairly swelled with pride. "Thank you."

Lauren laughed, levering herself off his chest. Reluctantly, he allowed her to sit up and followed her example. Upon rising, he found he was more than a little stiff. He glanced at his fingers and saw they were all wrinkled and pruny. Grimacing, he wondered just how long the two of them had been in there. As they stepped outside the shower, Willy turned off the faucets and found some rather overly-large purple towels for the two of them.

Lauren seemed completely oblivious to her nudity, so he had the opportunity to watch her comb out her hair and apply lotion while gloriously naked. He took the opportunity to run some hair cream onto his wet head. He certainly didn't want to frizz while Lauren was there; how utterly mortifying would that be?! He was the appreciative audience as she dressed, as there was some very interesting jiggling taking place. It was not until she had finished that he realized she would be returning the favor.

Trying to keep his head held high, he wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to his room. Collecting new underwear, socks, trousers, shirt, vest, handkerchief, and watch, he began to purposefully dress. He only blushed fourteen times as Lauren watched him just as avidly as he had observed her. When he deemed himself presentable, he went to his closet and pulled out a drawer, dipped his hands in sanitizing solution, and quickly pulled on a pair of orange latex gloves. Trembling, he reached for Lauren's hand and had a brief fit of uncertainty before she wrapped her hand around his.

"So," she said, then stopped. He wondered what she was going to say.

"So," he agreed. "Are you staying with the Buckets?" He smiled and she gave him a gamine grin.

"Oh, I suppose. I have a room in the village, just in case you threw me out," she admitted.

"Lauren," he practically squeaked, "I wouldn't have done that!"

"I didn't think you would, Willy. I just like to have all my bases covered," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I don't think there'd be enough room for me in Aunt Emma's house. With my mother that makes eight people in a two-room shack."

Willy wet his lips. "You could stay here with me- if you wanted to," he added quickly.

Meeting his eyes, Lauren leaned in and dropped a kiss onto his cheek. "Thank you, Willy. I'd really like that. At least for as long as you can stand my proximity."

"I'm getting better about that," he quickly assured her. And he really was; these days he was touching doorknobs and only changing his gloves ten times a day. She laughed, and he frowned suspiciously. "What?"

"Well, it's just that we spent so long getting dressed…"

Willy shook his head, his hair swinging. "Time well spent."

Lauren almost couldn't believe he was flirting with her, except that she had learnt to expect such shocks from Willy Wonka. "Well, maybe we could take a walk and talk for awhile? I miss talking to you. I miss the surprises."

"I promise," he said, crossing his heart faithfully, "little surprises around every corner, but nothing dangerous." Lauren smirked, and Willy found her suddenly very dangerous indeed, and that was oddly attractive…

They wandered aimlessly for almost an hour until they reached a spiral staircase. "I remember this," Lauren said, glad to find a familiar landmark. She pursed her lips regretfully. "I guess we haven't the time to climb up?"

"It only takes a moment," Willy said, stepping up onto the first step and urging her up beside him. He depressed a hidden button on the underside of the railing, turning the staircase into an escalator.

Lauren sighed ruefully. "You know, Charlie and I climbed all the way up here under our own power."

"I imagine that was good exercise. It must have taken hours!"

"More like fifteen minutes, but it seemed that way," Lauren agreed.

"You should know better by now that there's always at least two ways of doing something in my factory," Willy admonished her gently as they came to a stop inside the blue-shag carpeted room.

"I'm beginning to realize that," she replied, a sudden insight causing her to pause. It said something about a man when he wouldn't admit that there was one way to do anything, even to go up stairs. "Do you have so many solutions because you don't know the right way?"

"Of course not!" Willy said, seemingly outraged. "I always know the right way. The problem is that there are an infinite number of right ways. When you and Charlie came, you climbed the stairs, and it was the right way. You and I rode the stairs because that was the right way! I can only pick the best one if I have all my options open."

"Wait, so how do you know which way is the right way, that is, the best way, over all?"

"Simplicity, my dear Lauren," Willy said, without a trace of conceit. "The right way is the way I pick."

Lauren grinned, oddly thrilled with the conversation. "But if you aren't with me, how will I know the right way?"

Willy looked troubled for an instant, before his expression cleared. He waved his hand, as though dismissing the problem. "Just imagine what I would do; I'm sure you'll muddle through." Lauren laughed and stepped into the room.

The exploding-candy cannons were at rest at the moment, so Lauren wandered towards the glass wall to look out over the chocolate room. It was bathed in blue 'moonlight' and seemed even more surreal than usual. Willy joined her, stepping up behind her, as he always did--near but not touching. She smiled and looked for the Bucket house in the gloom. It was lost amongst the shadows, but she did spot James and Emma standing on the hill. They were holding hands and Emma seemed to be speaking very seriously to her husband. It must have been good news, as he grabbed her around the waist and spun her in a circle. They were both laughing; she saw him dip down and steal a kiss. Willy pulled her backwards into his arms, resting his hands over her stomach and peering over her shoulder.

"What do you suppose they're saying?" he asked, curious as a cat.

Below them, James was on his knees, pressing a kiss to Emma's stomach. Lauren's eyes widened and then a contented smile spread across her face. It seemed as though she had been smiling all day. "Come on, let's give them some privacy." She pulled the lever to turn the stairs into a slide and exited quickly. Willy followed a moment later, seemingly distracted by what they had witnessed. No doubt he'd turn it over in his mind all night. "Willy," she said, her voice all Derringer temptress.

A corpse would answer to that tone. Willy swung to meet her gaze. "Is it my soul that calls me by my name?"

Lauren laughed softly, recognizing and accepting his bizarre quotation base. "Come to bed."


	34. Chapter 34

**Epilogue **

**Ah, it's the end of an era; this was two years in the making! Thanks so much for reading and all your lovely reviews! A thousand thank-yous to my Betas as well, I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

When she woke, Willy was leaning over her in all his tousled glory. Lauren smiled drowsily at him as he traced the 'DC' above her breast with one finger. "What fascinates you about that tattoo?" she asked finally.

"I don't know," Willy said. There was along pause and Lauren allowed herself to bask in the sensation of being in love. Finally he spoke. "I guess because it's a mystery. When I look at you, I don't see you as that kind of person... a tattoo person," he clarified. "Every time I see it, it's a surprise."

Lauren stretched, an activity Willy regarded with interest, she noted. "Well, I never considered myself the tattoo sort either. I got it when my father died, to remind me that the company was a part of me. After he passed, it was tempting to just get away from it all. I had a lot of money and I was so young. It would have been easy to sell Derringer's and move off to the west coast, or something. It was the reason I stayed, because it was a part of me and a Derringer takes care of herself, always."

"But you aren't a Derringer," Willy said. "You're a Bucket." His face was a curious mask of calm, with a hint of calculation around the eyes.

She squinted at him suspiciously. "Of course I'm a Derringer. I think in many ways I'll always be one. Just because you're a Wonka, doesn't mean you aren't a Bucket too." For a second, Lauren took a moment to ponder the incestuous implications of that statement.

He looked surprised. "Very true," he replied, and his expression dissolved into a satisfied smile.

"And now we must get out and about. I think Aunt Emma has some very interesting news for us," Lauren said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before vaulting out of the bed. Willy followed more slowly, looking self-conscious in the artificial sunlight. Lauren was determined to act as unconcerned as possible, and sure enough, Willy's bashful behavior vanished after a few minutes. When he disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, Lauren redressed in her former costume, now looking a bit worse for the wear.

"Willy, how can I get my things brought up?" Lauren called into the bathroom.

He appeared in the doorway, toothbrush in hand. She noticed that it had superman on the handle. "Just ask one of the Oompa Loompas." Superman dove gracefully through the air as he gestured. "They are helpful to be happy... wait, strike that, reverse it," he said, inserting said toothbrush into his mouth.

By the time her luggage situation was resolved, Willy was ready to head down to breakfast, having procured a spare toothbrush for Lauren to use. The walk was pleasant, almost normal, if she ignored the busy Oompa Loompas running past at random. One appeared to be carrying a chop that was larger than he was. Another followed with a large ham. "What's the pork for?" Lauren had to ask.

"Dinner," Willy said, looking mystified by her question.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. "Willy, I need you to brace yourself," Lauren said firmly.

"Why?" The next moment she pushed him against a wall and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was warm and soft, passionate without being too demanding. Her tongue moved in lazy caresses against his, while his hands gripped her forearms almost convulsively. Slowly he relaxed, releasing his hold and sliding an arm around her waist. She broke the kiss carefully and stepped back to give him some space.

"Are you all right?" she couldn't help asking.

"I think so," Willy replied, straightening his top-hat with care. "I may need mouthwash... later."

"Okay," she said, accepting the comment in the spirit in which it had been intended.

When they reached the Bucket house, everyone was practically bouncing with excitement. Charlie swooped down on them the moment they walked through the door, only to do a double-take when he caught sight of Lauren.

"I'm going to have a brother!" he announced ecstatically, wrapping his arms around his cousin.

"Or a sister," James said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Isn't it wonderful news?" he asked, looking up at the two and smiling hugely.

"It is! Congratulations," Lauren said, pulling her uncle into a hug. She released him and caught Willy's less-than-pleased expression. She elbowed him gently, "Isn't this just the best news?" she prompted.

"Yeah, it's swell," Willy said, that big false smile of his. James smiled distractedly, unaware of their benefactor's insecurities, and happily moved back to Emma's side.

"You know, when the baby comes, it's going to need a lot of attention at first," Lauren said. "You and Charlie are going to be hanging out a lot more so his parents can watch the after it for at least a few months."

She let this sink in for a second, then watched as his smile became genuine. "That's true. I mean, Charlie won't want to do stuff with a baby," he looked at Charlie for confirmation.

"Yeah, especially a girl baby," Charlie said, looking disgruntled at the idea.

"Oh, you know... girls aren't so bad," Willy said, looking everywhere but at his friend. Lauren reached out and cautiously touched his hand. He blushed, but at least he wasn't flinching.

Charlie looked like he was going to comment on that, but Irene interrupted just in time. "Lauren, darling, whatever are you doing here?" she asked, pulling her daughter into a hug. It felt good, even righ, to hug her. This woman stepped into the role of mother more easily than Lauren had ever imagined was possible.

"Oh, just trying up some loose ends," she replied, smiling mysteriously.

* * *

Lauren was aware that work was piling up at home, though she took care of everything that could be done at a distance in good time. She had to periodically fly back, usually accompanied by Willy or Charlie in the Great Glass Elevator. To be honest, the idea of looking down and seeing your feet standing on nothing made her queasy when she thought about it, but it was so much faster than a jet that she kept on using it. Lauren found herself loathe to mention the problem to Willy lest he invent some kind of teleportation machine for her instead. Some things were best left alone, and the space-time continuum was one of those things. 

Lauren was surprised how smoothly everything was going. Willy slowly got used to physical contact, at least with the few people he knew weren't infectious. He did invent the Hsawaknow for Lauren to use whenever she flew over from the U.S., because one never knew what strange diseases a person could pick up in foreign countries.

There were the occasional arguments, such as when Willy invented a candy called Orange Orgasm that slowly built up to an explosion of flavor in your mouth. Lauren told him the name was completely inappropriate, no matter what had inspired the candy. After much yelling, they compromised with 'Orange Outbursts.' It was their first fight, and also how Lauren found out that Willy liked when she stood up to him. They stayed up that night talking and sharing Orgasms... orange ones. The sex got better and Lauren experienced a new level of trust in her relationship with Willy. For the first time, she believed that the man she was dating wasn't with her because she was beautiful, or powerful, or wealthy. Willy really loved her, which was why she was contemplating an idea she'd never entertained before... moving in.

"Willy, can I talk to you for a minute?" Lauren asked as he was pulling on his gloves.

"Sure," he replied, smiling beatifically at her. He had the most incredible teeth.

"What would you think of me moving to England more permanently?" she asked, watching his expression carefully for signs of unease. Instead, he seemed to glow with excitement.

"Oh boy, what a great idea!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. His hat tilted at a dangerous angle and she reached up to straighten it. He caught her wrists and pulled her in for a chaste kiss, bringing the number of kisses he'd initiated up to an astounding total of seven!

"Willy, you've got to come see what I've made!" Charlie shouted excitedly from across the room. Intrigued, Lauren followed at a slower pace than Willy's sprint. Charlie stood at a work table in front of a cage with a bizarre creature inside it. Neither felt the cage's occupant worthy of comment, so Lauren focused on the strange yellow, liquid substance in the dish before them. Charlie proceeded to explain, in extremely technical terms, that he had discovered a way to repel the vicious vermicious knids that stalked the forests of Loompa Land. Apparently the invention was to be called: Stunningly Venomous Instant Knid Spray. The two grew more and more excited as they talked about possibilities and consequences of the discovery. So enthralled were they by the discussion that they almost missed when the small, floppy-eared animal reached through the bars of his cage and tried to swipe the SNIKS from the table.

Catching up the cage, Charlie shook his finger vigorously at the morose-looking animal. "Silly flobbit, SNIKS are for knids!" He moved away, still berating.

Willy looked at Charlie before Lauren felt his eyes on her. She smiled up at him and he blinked bemusedly. She was prepared for a comment on the SNIKS, the flobbit, or even the weather. She was not prepared for: "Would you like to meet my father?"

She thought about it for a long moment. "Very much so."

* * *

It seemed as though things couldn't be better. Usually that would've frightened Lauren, except that Willy had a much more extensive imagination than she possessed and they still had far to go before their happiness plateau-ed. Glancing over at Willy as they flew over the small town his father lived in; she was transfixed by the expression of utter contentment on his face.

"You look happy," she said, unaware of the equally relaxed joy on her own features.

"It must be because I am," Willy replied, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Don't forget about the man who suddenly got everything he'd always wanted," Lauren cautioned, her tone grave and serious.

Willy's brilliant smile dimmed and he looked concerned. "What happened?"

Lauren put her hands around his neck, drawing him down for a promising kiss. She looked deep into his violet eyes as she pulled away. "He lived happily ever after."


End file.
